


Kili of Rivendell

by RivanWarrioress



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Death, Gandalf is a sneaky bugger, Gen, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Minor Character Death, Reunions, Thorin is Kili's dad, but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivanWarrioress/pseuds/RivanWarrioress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were days that would be forever etched into Thorin's mind...the day Erebor fell to Smaug, the day he lost his grandfather, father, and little brother, the day the he found out he was going to become a father, the day he actually became a father...</p><p>the day he lost his son</p><p>An AU where Kili is Thorin's son, but he is lost in infantcy.  Thorin thought that Kili died that day, but Gandalf's side trip to Rivendell shows Thorin that elves do help dwarves...or rather, one special young dwarf in particular</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Third Age: 2879

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING. All recognizable characters, settings, events, ect, were created by God, and by God, I mean JRR Tolkien.
> 
> This fic contains segments of script taken directly form the films. Obviously I don't own those either

The day that Keeva told Thorin that she was with child clung on in Thorin’s memory... the day that he had learned that he was to be a father, that Fili, his nephew, would soon have a cousin to play with.  Thorin remembered fondly how he had walked around for weeks afterwards, an actual smile on his face, obviously the happiest he had been since before Smaug came to Erebor.

 

Dis, Balin and Dwalin watched, all of them pleased to see that finally Thorin was happy after so many years of loneliness and despair.  Even Fili, young as he was, noticed the difference in his uncle. 

 

All of those close to the pair in question knew that things were not as perfect as they seemed.  For one, Keeva and Thorin were not each other’s One. Keeva had been engaged to one of Thorin’s friends who had died at the battle for Azanulbizar and still grieved strongly for her lost love and Thorin himself was not in love with the dwarrowdam that carried his child.  She was a friend of his, yes, but Thorin’s feelings went no further than that. 

 

Although the baby Keeva carried had not been conceived out of love, it was widely known by all who knew of Keeva’s pregnancy (and who the father of her unborn babe was) how much Thorin and Keeva loved their unborn child.  Keeva would smile and gently rub her swollen stomach through her dress and Thorin would sit on the floor beside Keeva’s chair and talk to the baby about Erebor and about how much Thorin looked forward to the day he would hold his son or daughter in his arms for the first time.

 

Just like the day that Keeva had told him of her pregnancy, the day the pregnancy had ended would forever be vividly burned into Thorin’s mind.  The day had begun normally enough, with Thorin going to work at the forge with Dwalin, leaving Keeva alone.  There was still over a month until Oin believed the baby was due and Keeva had shown no signs of illness or fatigue. There was no reason that she shouldn’t have been left alone.

 

Thorin worked hard that morning and by mid-afternoon he and Dwalin had completed the work they had been given.  Winter had set in and winter was usually a quiet time for the blacksmith.  They decided to shut up the forge and head back to their warm homes.  Snow had fallen throughout the morning and it was bitterly cold, despite the fact that it was only early on in winter... it was promising to be a long and cold winter.

 

Out of habit Thorin glanced down the street Keeva lived in on the way and he froze as he took in the sight that he took in.  Beside him Dwalin cursed but Thorin was oblivious to everything but the thick smoke that was coming from the window of Keeva’s cottage.

 

“NO!” Thorin had screamed, breaking free of his trance and running down the street through the gathered dwarves.  Several of them had tried to enter the dwelling but had been driven back by the heat of the fire that raged within.  Thorin, however, felt no heat as he dived through the door, coughing as the smoke burned his airways and made his eyes water.

 

“Keeva!” he yelled, his voice hoarse and barely audible above the roar of the flames.

 

“Thorin!” a voice called in reply and Thorin immediately crouched down to the floor and crawled towards it, forcing himself to ignore the flames around him and the painful memories of Smaug’s attack on Erebor the fire brought to his mind.

 

“Thorin, here... Help!” Keeva screamed from where she laid, her legs trapped by a fallen roofing beam.  Thorin crawled to her side, pushing the beam off her and gathering her in his arms as she clung to him.

 

“The baby... it’s coming,” she told him in a panicked voice.  Thorin had felt his stomach drop at the news, his heart pounding in his chest, but he did nothing to outwardly show his distress at the news.  Surely it was too early for the baby to arrive... surely Keeva was mistaken

 

Thorin didn’t remember how he and Keeva managed to escape the fire but he definitely remembered what happened afterwards when he had laid Keeva in his own bed at Dis’ house as Oin and Dis carefully examined Keeva.  Oin had looked at Thorin with a grave expression.

 

“The child is certainly coming... it may still be some hours yet but he or she is certainly coming.”

 

“But it’s too early... isn’t it?” Keeva asked, wincing as Dis applied a thick cream to some of her burns.

 

“I would have preferred that the little one stayed where he or she is for at least another month, given the weather, but the little one is on its way,” Oin told her.  Thorin hesitated.  He knew it would be improper for him to stay but he still wanted to reassure Keeva.  Dis laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and Thorin sighed, kissing Keeva on the forehead before Dis ushered him out of the room.

 

The next few hours were a blur to Thorin but the moment Dis opened the door to his room, the tiny bundle of blankets in her arms, Thorin would never forget.  He remembered his heart pounding in his chest, his throat dry as Dis carefully put the tiny, swaddled infant in his arms and quietly told him that he had a son.

 

Thorin would later blame it on residual smoke but the tears that poured from his eyes as he cradled his son for the first time were genuine.  The baby was tiny, even by dwarf standards, but he was perfect at the same time.  His head already carried thick, dark hair, so much like Thorin’s own, and Thorin recognized many of his own features in his son’s face as the boy slept in his arms, tiny fingers curling around one of Thorin’s braids.

 

Sensing that her brother was rather occupied with his son, Dis slipped back into Thorin’s room.  For his part, Thorin walked to his chair beside the fire and carefully lowered himself into it, cradling the baby close to his chest, wondering if the joyful feeling in his chest was the same feeling his own father had experienced when Thorin, Frerin and Dis had each been placed in his arms.

 

Thorin only lifted his eyes from his son when he heard his bedroom door open again and he saw Dis emerge, her face pale.  Concern stirred within Thorin and the smile on his face was replaced with a look of concern.

 

“Dis... what is it?” he asked.  Dis sniffed and knelt on the floor in front of Thorin, carefully taking the hand he didn’t have cradled around his son in her own hands.

 

“Thorin... Keeva... Oin doesn’t think she’ll make it. She... she’s lost a lot of blood and the burns from the fire have sapped a lot of her strength.  Oin is surprised that she’s lasted this long, that she even lasted long enough to give birth to this little one.” Dis broke off, gently tracing a finger down the baby’s cheek.  The baby shifted in his sleep but did not waken.  Thorin’s grip on his son tightened at the news.  It was a bitter blow, to face losing Keeva just after their son had been born.  Thorin had known much death and suffering throughout his life, to lose yet another friend, the mother of his son, was a painful reminder of how precious life was.  Thorin let out a sigh and looked at Dis. 

 

It was apparent how upset Dis was by the news, especially to Thorin, who knew his sister so well.  Keeva had been a close friend of Dis’ for many years, since before Thror’s death, and Keeva’s younger brother had been Dis’s husband, Gili.  They had become even closer after Gili’s sudden death during an orc raid seven years before, making the babe Thorin held Fili’s cousin twice over.

 

“I’m sorry. I know you were friends,” Thorin said, sincerity in every word 

 

Dis nodded, wiping a tear from her face. “Thank you, Thorin,” she told him.  Thorin lowered his head and kissed his son’s forehead gently before rising to his feet.

 

“Come on, little one.  You should get the chance to meet you mother.”

 

Dis stepped aside and followed Thorin as he walked towards his room.  The door was closed and Thorin pushed it open.  Oin stood by Keeva’s side, watching Thorin with sorrowful eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, Thorin.”

 

Thorin nodded. “Thank you, Oin.  I’m sure you’ve done all you can.  Is… Is she?” Thorin faded off, unable to bring himself to say the words.

 

“She’s still alive but it will not be long now. She’s lost too much blood and the injuries she sustained in the fire alone would be cause for concern.”

 

Thorin nodded, approaching the bed.  Keeva’s eyes were open and she turned her head towards him, smiling weakly.

 

“Thorin,” she greeted, her voice a mere whisper.  Thorin went down on his knees so he was on a similar level to Keeva, shifting their son in his arms so Keeva could see the life they had created.

 

“He’s perfect,” Keeva smiled, reaching out a pale, trembling hand and touching her son’s face.  The baby stirred, whimpering, before he opened his eyes.  Thorin tensed, ready for him to start crying, but the baby didn’t cry. Instead he looked up at Thorin and across at his mother, his fingers releasing their grip on Thorin’s braid so he could grasp hold of his mother’s finger.

 

“Have you... thought of a name?” Keeva asked, short of breath, her eyes fixed on her son.  Thorin carefully transferred the baby into his mother’s arms and Keeva weakly held the baby against her chest.

 

“I did have one in mind. I wanted to run it by you first, though,” Thorin told her. “I was thinking... I was thinking that we could name him Kili.”

 

“Kili... I like it. It runs well with Fili.  Kili, son of Thorin, prince of Erebor.” Keeva smiled weakly before she lifted her head and pressed her lips to little Kili’s head.

 

“I love you, my little one... my little prince... and let no one ever tell you otherwise.”

 

“Keeva,” Thorin whispered when she turned both her eyes towards him.

 

“Take care of him... love him, protect him, don’t let anything happen to him.”

 

“I promise.” Thorin nodded, taking Keeva’s hand in his own.  She squeezed his fingers before she let out a shaky breath and her hand went limp in Thorin’s, her eyes darkening, unseeing to the world once more

 

“Keeva?” Thorin asked, even though he knew in his head that she was gone.  Oin walked beside Thorin and felt Keeva’s wrist before shaking his head at Thorin.  As if he knew that something was wrong, Kili chose that moment to begin to cry, gripping the thick blanket that had been covering his chest and legs.  Thorin let out a defeated sigh, getting to his feet and pressing his lips to Keeva’s forehead before he picked up Kili, cradling his son close to his chest.

 

“It’s alright, Kili... I’ve got you... I’ve got you.  I’m never going to let anything happen to you.  You’re safe with me, Kili, I promise.”

 

Looking back on that day, Thorin would forever cringe at the promises he had made, to Keeva, to Kili, and to himself.

 

The promises he had made, and so soon afterwards, broken.


	2. Chapter 1

Bilbo Baggins was quite a respectable hobbit of the Shire, or rather, he had been the morning before his lovely little hobbit hole was inundated with twelve dwarves and a troublesome wizard.  Now that he had gone off on an adventure across Middle Earth with said dwarves and wizard, Bilbo wasn’t so sure that the term respectable could be used to describe him... at least not when compared to other hobbits that he had socialized with, anyway.  He might still be a Baggins of Bag End but, as he was increasingly becoming aware, Bilbo was also a Took with the enjoyment of adventure to prove it.

 

Sure, the rain had been a trifle annoying but all in all, thus far Bilbo was finding his journey most enjoyable... at least, when he wasn’t thinking about their final destination and the dragon that dwelled there.

 

Even the company wasn’t bad.  Although some of the dwarves, Thorin most of all, were very distant and aloof from the hobbit, others, such as Fili, Ori, Bofur and Balin, were very friendly and were happy to talk to Bilbo.

 

It was a pleasant summer’s day and Gloin was talking to Dori about his wife and son back in the Blue Mountains just ahead of where Bilbo, Balin and Gandalf were riding. 

 

“Do many others of the company have children?” Bilbo asked Balin.  He knew that he was an oddity in the Shire because he had never married a lass and settled down.  Most of his cousins were married and had children.  Bilbo, however, had never met the right person.

 

Balin nodded. “Bombur has a wife and a number of children and, well... Thorin helped Lady Dis raise Fíli, him being her brother and all.”

 

“That’s it?” Bilbo said in surprise.  All but two of the thirteen dwarves being childless.  He knew that dwarf women were few but he had not realized it was that bad.

 

“Aye, laddie, only one in three dwarrow babes are female and many choose not to marry and instead focus on their chosen craft.  Dwarrows are rare and especially precious. Most married couples consider themselves lucky to have two or three children.  You sound surprised.”

 

“No, it’s only... a bit different to us hobbits, that’s all.  My mother was one of twelve and all but one lived well into adulthood.”

 

Bofur, who was riding nearby, choked. “Twelve... Bless me, there’s something for Bombur to aim for once we reclaim Erebor.”

 

“I’ve heard of larger families too.” Bilbo smiled over his shoulder at Bofur, who sputtered in shock.

 

Balin sighed and shook his head. “Laddie... it’s best not to bring up the subject of children. Especially around Thorin.”

 

“Aye, it’s painful for him, poor sod.  Nobody deserved to be put through that,” Bofur murmured in agreement, quickly losing his earlier mirth.

 

“What... what happened?” Bilbo asked. 

 

Balin sighed. “I guess it would be alright for you to know. It’s no secret and chances are you’ll, er, hear about it from Thorin himself at some point.”

 

“What?” Bilbo asked curiously and even Gandalf was listening intently, obviously having not heard the tale.

 

“Sixty-two years ago, Thorin and the sister of Fili’s father had a son... Kili.  The boy’s mother, Mahal give her peace, died the day the lad was born, leaving Thorin alone to look after the boy.  Thorin was besotted with the little lad.  Kili was born early in winter, over a month before he was expected, and Thorin spent most of that winter holding his son, keeping him warm, feeding him goat’s milk, hoping that he would keep growing... that he wouldn’t be lost to the cold.  He was such a small child many thought that he wouldn’t survive... but he did.  He had the strength of a true Durin.”

 

“What happened?” Bilbo asked softly, sensing that there was an impending tragedy.

 

“Not long after the first day of spring, someone murdered the goat Thorin was keeping for Kili and then tried to kill little Kili where he lay in his cradle.  Thorin was able to kill the assailant, a dwarf from a rival clan, before Kili was hurt but we were certain that there would be others who wanted the lad dead.  Thorin, Dwalin, Dis and myself planned to send Kili, along with his mother’s older sister, to the dwarf settlements of the northern reaches of Ered Luin where they might dwell in comfort, safety and secrecy until such time that Kili would be older and more able to protect himself, which would be when he would return to Thorin’s side... where he belonged.  A week later, they set off with a group of other dwarves, dwarves that Thorin trusted.  Thorin never saw Kili again.  A few weeks later, Thorin sent a raven north to where the group had been heading, to Bofur, who had been living there for years, asking if the group had arrived.”

 

“They hadn’t,” Bofur added in an uncharacteristically gloomy voice. “Nobody new had arrived in town since the start of winter... before the little one had ever been born.”

 

“Bofur’s reply raised the alarm and Thorin, along with Dwalin, myself, and a few other dwarves, rode out.  We searched for days, following the same route as Kili and his traveling companions had... until we found them.”

 

“Them?” Bilbo asked, his voice thick with tension. 

 

Balin nodded gravely. “Aye... the burned remains of those who had traveled with Kili surrounded by the bodies of a good number of orcs.  They had been attacked and outnumbered by the vile creatures.  The bodies were burned beyond recognition... desecrated by the surviving orcs, who had long left the scene of their crime.  We found some of Kili’s belongings, a couple of toys, some of his little clothes... and the sling he was being carried in by his dear aunt.  All of it was drenched in blood.  We searched the woods but too much time had passed.  Kili was barely five months old, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.  We never found his body.”

 

Bilbo’s eyes widened in shock, glancing towards the head of the line where Thorin rode, his back to all who followed him, unable to imagine what it would have been like to go through what Thorin had experienced... to have a child and then to lose him so young to an orc raid.

 

“It’s horrible.” Bilbo shook his head.  Balin nodded while Bofur cleared his throat and rubbed his hand over his face, trying to wipe away the tears that had slipped from his eyes at the retelling of the story.

 

“Why would Thorin want to talk about it... to me, of all people?  He doesn’t even like me, though... you said that I would hear about it from him?” Bilbo asked in confusion.  Balin sighed.

 

“Well, the grief at losing his son almost destroyed Thorin. If Fili hadn’t been there, Thorin would have fallen into madness long ago.  As it is, he is haunted by the memory of what happened to Kili and, well, it shows in Thorin’s nightmares.  There will come a time during this journey, I am sure, when we’ll be woken by Thorin, screaming his son’s name in his sleep.”

 

“Is there anything we can do to help him?” Bilbo asked.

 

“Not unless you can change the past and bring the poor lad back from Mahal’s halls,” Bofur said in reply.

 

“It’s best to not mention it, laddie.  Thorin wouldn’t want ye to pity him.  He’s better off not knowing that ye know the story.  Same goes for Dwalin and Fili... it hurts them mighty bad too,” Balin advised

 

“Right.” Bilbo nodded.  He could understand where Balin was coming from, from a certain extent, and the elderly dwarf knew Thorin and the situation far better than Bilbo did.  Bilbo trusted that Balin knew what he was talking about.

 

Bilbo, Balin and Bofur moved on while Gandalf drifted back, the most thoughtful look on his face going unnoticed by any of the dwarves.  The thoughtful look was replaced by a smile that split the wizard’s face.

 

Yes... a visit to Rivendell was certainly in order. 

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Admittedly, Gandalf thought to himself as he followed the line of dwarves down the hidden path, the journey towards Imaldris had been a little more exciting than he had anticipated, beginning with the trolls and then Radagast’s visit and then the attack by the warg pack with its orc riders and the mad sprint towards safety... but at last the path opened up, revealing the beauty of the valley of Imaldris. 

 

Just in case they didn’t know where they were, Gandalf elaborated on where they were. “Welcome to the hidden valley of Imaldris, home of the Lord Elrond.  In the common tongue, it has another name.”

 

“Rivendell,” Bilbo supplied in a wistful voice, obviously overwhelmed by the chance to see the elves he had so longed to see in his youth. The dwarves stood, observing the view, and Thorin turned dark eyes towards Gandalf... accusing eyes

 

“This was your plan all along - to seek refuge with our enemy?” Thorin accused.  Gandalf barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

“You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself,” Gandalf explained, his patience for Thorin’s stubborn dislike for elves waning.  If only Thorin knew what waited for him in the hidden valley.

 

“You think the elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us,” Thorin protested. 

“Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm, which is why you will leave the talking to me,” Gandalf instructed.  Thorin pouted like a petulant child who had not gotten his way but remained silent. Gandalf grunted, shuffling off down the path that led towards Elrond’s home with Bilbo all but skipping after him and the dwarves following more hesitantly, holding their weapons close as if they feared being attacked.  Gandalf rolled his eyes.  While after the events of the past day he could not fault the dwarves for being cautious, there were some places on earth where visitors were genuinely safe... and Rivendell was almost certainly one of those places for Thorin and his company, provided that they minded their manners.

 

Still, Gandalf watched as the dwarves clustered together, closing ranks into a tight circle that seemed to wrap around the younger members of the company, Bilbo, Ori and Fili, as the elf riders encircled them, although Gandalf was pleased to see Elrond among the elves.  It would be most awkward if Gandalf had gone to the efforts of shepherding all twelve dwarves, plus Bilbo, to Rivendell and Elrond had been absent, in Lothlorien perhaps.

 

“Lord Elrond, friend,” Gandalf greeted fluently in Elvish.

 

“Mithrandir, it has been too long,” Elrond replied as they clasped shoulders.

 

“Your companions of late are unusual, my friend,” Elrond observed in Elivish.  Gandalf smiled.

 

“We are in the need for some information that we hoped you could provide for us.  In return, I believe some of my companions have information to your... dwarven family member,” Gandalf replied in elvish.  Elrond arched his eyebrow but nodded.

 

“Where have you been?” Gandalf casually asked in the common tongue.  Elrond sighed.

 

“Pursuing an orc pack from the south. They were quite close to the hidden pass, hunting something... or someone.” Elrond gave Gandalf a suspicious look.

 

“Ah, I’m afraid that would have been us.  We were quite ambushed, you see,” Gandalf offered by way of explanation.  Elrond nodded as Thorin stepped forward, the rest of the dwarves sticking close.

 

“I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting before, Thorin, son of Thrain,” Elrond respectfully greeted. “You have your grandfather’s bearing.”

 

“Strange, he made no mention of you,” Thorin replied.  Behind him, Gloin snorted with amusement.  Gandalf rolled his eyes at the stubbornness of dwarves while Elrond gave a little smirk.

 

“Do you think your companions are hungry, Mithrandir?” He asked Gandalf in Elvish.  Gandalf went to reply, catching onto Elrond’s joke, but Gloin had risen to Elrond’s bait

 

“What is he saying?  Does he offer us insult?” Gloin growled, brandishing his axe.  Gandalf sighed.

 

“No, Master Gloin, he is offering you food.”

 

“Oh,” Gloin said, falling back with the rest of the group as they murmured amongst themselves.

 

“If that’s the case,” Gloin continued, once a decision had been reached, “lead on.”

 

Gandalf and Elrond turned and led the way, both of them struggling to hide the grins on their faces from their little joke.

 

The dwarves were shown to a set of rooms that they could stay in and Gandalf left them to it, following Elrond to the Elf Lord’s study.

 

“What is this information you have about Kili?” Elrond asked.

 

“I heard this story on our journey, recounted by Balin, one of the dwarves, to Mr. Baggins, the hobbit accompanying us, and myself.  He told of a dwarf child named Kili born early in the winter 62 years ago who was thought to have been killed by orcs when the group he was traveling with was ambushed somewhere on the road between the southern and northern parts of Ered Luin when the lad was only a babe.”

 

Elrond frowned. The story certainly struck a chord with what he knew about his young ward’s backstory.

 

“Did the dwarf telling this story say who this child was?”

 

“Kili, son of Thorin Oakenshield... the only child of Thorin Oakenshield himself and therefore a prince of Erebor and Thorin’s rightful heir,” Gandalf replied and Elrond leaned back in his chair, resting his chin in his graceful, slender hands thoughtfully, processing Gandalf’s news.

 

“Are you sure about this?” Elrond asked.  Gandalf nodded.

 

“As sure as I can be.  You must admit that the stories do match.”

 

“You’re right.” Elrond nodded. “You’re coming here always does liven things up a little.  It’s normally very quiet here when you’re not around.” Elrond smiled ruefully and Gandalf chuckled.

 

“Yes, I suppose I do stir the pot a little.  I do believe that the people of the Shire have similar opinions about me...and if they did not now they certainly will now,” Gandalf glanced back over his shoulder towards the dwarves room, where Bilbo had been struggling to conceal his excitement at the prospect of spending time living amongst the elves...the very race Bilbo had once dreamed of meeting.

 

Gandalf was entirely sure that he would forever blamed by the Shire folk for putting the idea of quests and elves back in Bilbo’s head, but he could barely bring himself to care.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there. I hope you've enjoyed the latest chapter. In case you hadn't noticed I took the liberty of borrowing some segments from the script of the hobbit an Unexpected journey and slid them into this story. Forgive, but i couldn'r resist Elrond and Gandalf teasing the dwarves...and Gloin is so much fun to tease in that bit...and it was uimportant to throw in a bit of fun after the first part...now we all know how Thorin lost Kili.
> 
> Next chapter will be up soon...maybe next week.


	3. Chapter 2

Elrond, Lord of Imaldris, let out a long-suffering sigh as he rode ahead of his long-time friends, Glorfindel and Erestor, who were bickering loudly as they rode beside one another, which they had done almost all day.  The constant noise was beginning to grate on Elrond’s nerves and the almost always patient elf lord was beginning to regret his choice in traveling companions.  Surely even his sons, Elladan and Elrohir, would not argue this much.

 

“Must you continue arguing like this?” he finally snapped, his patience evaporating like water on a hot summer’s day.

 

“My apologies, Lord Elrond,” Erestor apologized, “but I am afraid that Lord Glorfindel here refuses to see reason.”

 

“It is not I who refuses to see reason but you, my Lord Erestor,” Glorfindel responded, outraged by Erestor’s implication that he was in the wrong.  Elrond simply raised an eyebrow at his closest advisor’s bickering, certain that his own sons, who were centuries younger than his advisors, would have the maturity to stop by now.

 

“Could you please be a little quieter? A dwarf would hear us coming from miles away the way you are both fighting... or any orcs, for that matter.”

 

“Ah, let them come,” Glorfindel beamed but he and Erestor respectfully stopped their arguing.  They continued riding through the forest, this time much more quietly.  It was Elrond who heard the sound first and he immediately pulled his horse to a stop.  Behind him, Erestor and Glorfindel, seeing their leader stop, stopped as well and Glorfindel reached for his sword.

 

“What is it?” Erestor asked.  Elrond frowned.  Maybe he had imagined the sound but for a moment he’d thought he had heard a weak cry.

 

“Never mind,” Elrond murmured and went to nudge his horse forward until he froze.  There it was again.

 

“Did you hear that?” Glorfindel asked.  Elrond was already riding forward quickly, following the road as it turned sharply before pulling up sharply at the scene he had ridden into.  A pile of corpses, charred and smoking, was in the middle of the road.  Elrond could see both orc and dwarf bodies, although the number of dead dwarves far outnumbered the number of dead orcs.  An orc spear had been driven into the ground with the head of a dwarf, its beard hacked off, mounted on top of it... a grizzly monument to what had happened here.

 

As he heard Erestor and Glorfindel ride up behind him, Elrond slid gracefully from his horse, drawing his sword as a precaution and slowly walking through the scene, his horse trained well enough to stand still, even as the other elves dismounted and joined Elrond.

 

“A gruesome scene,” Erestor observed, his nose crinkled in distaste.  Elrond nodded, studying the pile of remains.  Glorfindel was studying the ground around the scene, the splatters of blood that stained the ground in places.

 

“Must have happened last night, judging from the way the pyre is still smoking.  The dwarves had made up camp... you can see where the earth is churned up from where the orcs ripped down shelters and there are the remains of a cooking fire over here.  They must have been taken by surprise.”

 

“And overpowered.  No dwarf would let their traveling companions, be they friend, kin, or otherwise, be burned like this,” Elrond observed and the other elves nodded.

 

“Where do you suppose they were going?” Erestor asked.

 

“I do not know. It is common to see dwarves on the road. They might have been journeying north to the northern branches of the Blue Mountains or south to the southern stretch of the mountains or to the realms of men in the south. Dwarven craftsmen often find their home in the towns of men,” Elrond replied. “Like us, they might have been heading east to the Misty Mountains or beyond.  There is a dwarven stronghold in the Iron Hills.  These dwarves could have been journeying anywhere, they might even have no set destination in mind...” Elrond broke off, lifting his head as he heard the weak cry once again.  Glorfindel frowned, pointing towards the thick trees with his sword.

 

“It’s coming from over there,” he reported.  Elrond walked towards the trees, carefully stepping through the thick undergrowth, which was stained with blood, as if a dwarf had been injured and tried to escape.  Gripping his sword tightly, for Elrond knew that dwarves held no love towards elves, Elrond continued on a few more paces until he spotted the dark blue cloth sticking out from a small hollow formed by a fallen tree.  Slowly kneeling, Elrond peered beneath the tree and his breath caught in his throat as he took in the tiny figure lying there.

 

“Glorfindel, Erestor,” Elrond called in a hushed voice as he carefully reached into the hollow, gently pulling the tiny figure out.  The baby, for that is what it was that Elrond discovered, gave a weak cry at the movement but easily slid from its hiding place, wrapped in the dark blue cloth that was obviously a blanket.  The baby was dirty and Elrond was willing to bet the babe had been alone for almost a full day and night.

 

“Hello there, little one,” Elrond greeted gently.  The baby was tiny, obviously a dwarf child... and not a very old one at that.  Elrond guessed that the baby was about three or four months old, although the dwarf child already had a head of thick dark hair    

 

“Oh, Valar help us,” Erestor exclaimed when he saw the baby lying in the undergrowth in front of Elrond.

 

“His mother must have hidden him to protect him,” Glorfindel quietly stated.  Elrond nodded, carefully gathering the baby in his arms.  The baby weakly stirred, looking up at Elrond with large, brown eyes before it gave a whimper and went limp.  Elrond frowned.

 

“Glorfindel, light a fire. We need to get him warm or he will surely follow his travel companions into Mahal’s halls.”

 

Glorfindel nodded and Erestor hurried away to gather some spare clothes and blankets they could rip up and use to keep the baby warm.  Elrond carried the baby out of the trees and into the clearing, monitoring the babe’s breath and the weak fluttering of its pulse

 

“It will need food as well,” Erestor told Elrond as Elrond settled to the ground beside the pile of clothes Erestor had set out.

 

“Go and fetch some water. He will need to be cleaned,” Elrond requested and Erestor nodded while Elrond frowned.  They had nothing to give the dwarfling to eat, other than some water from one of their water skins, and Elrond doubted that water would give enough nutrients and energy to keep such a young baby alive until they could reach another settlement.  Still, it was surprising the baby had lasted this long without care, an indication that it obviously had the strength, determination, and stubborn perseverance that was often attributed to the dwarvish race as a whole.

 

“You’re a strong little one, aren’t you?” Elrond observed as he watched Glorfindel approach.

 

“I’ve set our fire on the track a little way down the road... out of sight of all this,” Glorfindel gestured with his hands and Elrond nodded, gathering the babe and the clothes in his arms again and setting off towards the campsite while Glorfindel led the horses to the camp.  Gingerly, Elrond unwrapped the blanket the baby had been bundled up in, taking in the good quality of the material.  It had kept the baby warm and Elrond was certain that the blanket was the key factor of the baby surviving the previous night.

 

Elrond held up the blanket, inspecting it.  It was a little dirty in places but otherwise had survived the ordeal well and such a blanket would be useful in the coming days.  Elrond’s eye, however, was caught by a corner of the blanket where dwarven runes had been lovingly stitched into the cloth with some silver thread.  Elrond smiled as he read the runes.

 

“So, your name is Kili?” he asked the dwarfling, who did not stir from his deep slumber.  Elrond sighed and set the blanket aside and checked the baby’s breath and pulse again.  The fire lit by Glorfindel was putting off a pleasant heat and Elrond shifted himself and Kili closer to it as Glorfindel hurried to aid Erestor.

 

Within a few minutes, both elves returned, Erestor carrying their cooking pots, both full with water, while Glorfindel was beaming triumphantly.

 

“Look what we found near the creek back there,” he boasted, indicating the white nanny goat that he was leading.  The goat trotted along beside him happily, the halter on its head indicating that it was used to being lead.  The rope attached to the halter was frayed and broken, as if it had been severed, and there was a shallow gash to her shoulder.  The goat bleated as it looked around the campsite and Elrond found himself smiling grimly.

 

“At least now we have food for the little one now,” Erestor smiled, setting the water beside the fire to warm. 

 

“Kili,” Elrond corrected, passing the blanket to Erestor, who took the blanket and read the runes stitched into it.  Glorfindel had used a length of rope to tie the goat up and was now milking her, looking slightly ridiculous given the long elven robes he was wearing.  Elrond began to rip up the spare clothing that Erestor had found, knowing that there was no way the clothes could be made to fit little Kili but with a little luck they would be enough to keep the little one warm until they reached the warm halls of Imaldris.

 

The water warm, Elrond poured some of it into a bowl and then removed the remainder of the baby’s clothing, using a scrap of cloth to wipe away the dirt that marked the small body.  The baby stirred at the feel of the water and whined in protest, so Elrond quickly finished the task and dressed the baby in the clothes that he had prepared before wrapping him back up in the blue blanket and holding Kili close to his chest

 

“Here,” Glorfindel offered, passing Elrond a water skin full of goat milk.  Elrond carefully tipped it up, so the milk dribbled into the Kili’s mouth.  Kili swallowed the milk hungrily and looked for more, his big brown eyes looking up at Elrond as the elf lord carefully fed him.

 

Kili finished half the water skin before he pulled away from the improvised bottle and Elrond carefully burped him before settling the baby into his arms again.  Elrond smiled as he checked the baby’s pulse again, pleased with how much it had improved.  With a bit of luck and continued good care, Kili stood a good chance of surviving the ordeal.

 

Smiling, Elrond watched as the dwarf fell asleep in his arms, one tiny hand fisting around the furred edges of Elrond’s robe as if making sure that the Elf was not going to go anywhere without taking Kili with him.  Elrond marveled at the small hand, so much smaller than any of his own children’s.  Realistically, Elrond knew it was just because Kili was a dwarf but in Elrond’s large arms, Kili looked especially tiny.

 

“Now we just have to think of what we are going to do with you,” Elrond whispered to the sleeping baby, although Elrond knew even without his foresight where little Kili would be growing up.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Elrond blinked, drawing himself from his memories.  They sky outside had darkened considerably and the air had cooled just as much.  Gandalf had left Elrond’s study hours before and Elrond had been drawn into his thoughts, reflecting the story that Gandalf had told him and remembering the day he had found Kili, hidden in the undergrowth near a clearing where the rest of the group with which he had been traveling had been killed by orcs, not far from the Grey Havens. 

 

Despite their best efforts, Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor had been unable to find anyone who knew where Kili belonged and so Elrond had made the decision to take the little dwarf in as his own son.  Kili had grown up in the halls of Imaldris, his large brown eyes and his fun-loving personality winning over every resident of the house, no one more so than Elrond himself and his twin sons, who dotingly called Kili their baby brother and loved him just as much as they loved one another and Arwen and now little Estel.

 

Elrond found himself smiling at the idea of Kili being Thorin’s son.  It would mean that both the future King Under the Mountain and the rightful King of Gondor had both grown up as brothers, playing together and training together.  While it was true that Kili was over fifty years older than Estel, they got on very well, the sound of their laughter often echoing through the halls as they spent their days enjoying their youth. 

 

Elrond knew that dwarves did not come of age until they were eighty years old and Kili was still eighteen years away from that milestone, but it was obvious to Elrond that Kili wanted to go and see the world.  He had already crossed the Misty Mountains, accompanying Elrond and the twins on a trip to Lothlorien to see Arwen on several occasions, and he had also undertaken short journeys with his elder brothers, meeting with the rangers and fighting orc packs that dared to come down from the mountains.  Kili was already was a skilled fighter, most noticeably with a bow, although he was also very dangerous with the sword that Elrond had given him for his sixtieth birthday.  He was quick on his feet and in hand-to-hand combat he could keep up with his elder brothers, his youthful energy helping to compensate for the obvious size difference.

 

In his heart, Elrond knew that if it was true.... If Kili was Thorin’s son, the dwarven king would be entitled to wanting to take his son on his quest to Erebor with him and Kili, being the bright, inquisitive dwarf he was, would leap at the opportunity presented, regardless of what Elrond said. 

 

The knowledge made Elrond’s heart heavy, for he had foreseen the dangers that Thorin and his company were moving toward. Smaug especially was on Elrond’s mind and Elrond did not know for sure that all would be well with his second youngest child if he went along with Thorin’s quest.

 

Elrond closed his eyes and prayed to the Valar that Kili would be safe and then, as an afterthought, he sent the same prayer to Mahal as well. Kili was, after all, a dwarf, despite his Elvish upbringing and Elrond knew that it was likely that Kili would need both races’ deities watching over and protecting him should he choose to go on the quest.

 


	4. Chapter 3

Fili was one of the first to wake up the next morning, having not stayed up quite as late as some of the others, such as Bofur and Nori.  Creeping around his sleeping companions, the young dwarf walked out onto the balcony attached to the room the dwarves had been given.

 

Immediately, Fili noticed the quiet tranquillity offered by his position, far enough away from the other dwarves that the sound of their snoring was not nearly so noticeable, although you could certainly still hear certain members of the company from where Fili stood. Gloin and Dwalin were two such dwarves who didn’t so much snore but make roaring noises in their sleep.  Fili was certain that they were louder than the dragon itself, although he would never say such a thing.  Thorin was already on edge – he had been since the journey had begun – and Fili was not going to tempt fate by making any ill-thought comments.

 

Letting out a sigh, Fili leaned forward, resting his chin on his arms as they rested on the railing of the balcony.  The previous night’s party when the dwarves had made a bonfire using the elfish furniture they could access and then eaten a meal that consisted solely of meat had been enjoyable, but Fili had still felt lonely.  He and Ori were the youngest members of the group, with Ori five years younger than Fili, and they got along reasonably well. But they were not good friends and Ori spent most of his time with his older brothers, or with Balin or Dwalin.  Fili, on the other hand, only had one immediate relative in the company... Thorin himself (although Balin, Dwalin, Oin and Gloin were also distant relatives). However, Thorin had been withdrawn all night, fuming that Gandalf had tricked them into coming to the Elvish settlement. 

 

It was times like these, when Fili was on the road with his uncle and the other, older dwarves, that Fili missed his baby cousin, Kili.  Kili would have been 62 years old by now and may well have been invited on the quest, given his position as heir to the throne of Erebor.  While it was true that Gloin had forbidden his son Gimli from coming on the quest and Gimli was actually six months older than Kili, Kili would have had different expectations on his shoulders, given who his father was.

 

Fili blinked, cursing under his breath as he realized there was tears running down his face, and he angrily brushed them away.  Thinking of Kili always made him cry, even though it had all happened so very long ago.  Not even Thorin cried about it anymore, at least, not that Fili knew about.  Thorin wasn’t one to talk about things like feelings; he bottled things up inside and tried to cope the best he could.  Fili didn’t know how he did it, considering everything his uncle had been through.  Losing Erebor to the dragon, losing his grandfather, father, and brother at Moria, losing his brother-in-law and then Keeva, and then losing Kili when he was barely five months old…  It made Fili realise how strong Thorin was, to be able to keep going, to keep functioning after all that.  Fili was certain that he would not have been able to cope if he was in Thorin’s position and that fact scared Fili quite a bit.  With Kili gone, Fili was Thorin’s heir and the dwarf king had big shoes to fill.  Fili knew that, no matter what he did in adulthood, it would never compare to the deeds that Thorin had done in his life... especially if their quest was successful and they reclaimed Erebor.

 

“You alright, lad?” A voice interrupted Fili’s musing and he jumped, startled, and whipped around, relaxing when he saw Bofur.

 

“Yes... just thinking about things.  It was too noisy in there.”

 

Bofur snorted. “Tell me about it... it sounds like a rock fall when they’re all going.”

Fili snorted, glad that Bofur had decided to go on the quest.  Bofur was always good to have a joke with and he got on especially well with Fili when the younger dwarf was deep in thought, reminding Fili that he was still young and that he was allowed to enjoy himself.

 

“A couple of the lads and I were going to have a look around after breakfast. You going to come?”

 

“Have you told Thorin?”

 

“Er... we were just going to let Balin pass the message on.  Apparently, Thorin is going to be spending the day talking to Elrond and Gandalf, anyway.”

 

“Probably a good idea, I’m in. Dwalin always said that it was best to know your enemies.”

 

“True, that,” Bofur agreed cheerfully before heading back inside.  Fili could hear the sounds of Bombur making breakfast with Bilbo’s help and he sighed, pushing away from the railing and heading back inside, knowing that if he didn’t there would be nothing left for him to eat.

 

THE HOBBIIT

 

Fili looked curiously around as he, Bofur, Ori, Dori, and Bilbo walked down one corridor after another, taking in the statues and the way the gardens and trees seemed to flow through the architecture created by the elves.  Normally, Fili wasn’t one for trees and plants in general; unless it was pipe weed of course but even Dori was impressed by the way the elves had worked alongside nature in the construction of the house of Elrond.  Fili knew that Ori was itching to get his notebook and start drawing some of the scenery they had encountered.

 

The corridor they currently were walking along overlooked a small garden and Fili spotted some steps that led down into it.

 

“Let’s go down there,” he pointed.  The other dwarves murmured in agreement and followed Fili down the steps.  It was only when Fili stepped down off the bottom of the steps that they realized that the garden was occupied.

 

“Oh... hello,” the small boy greeted in the common tongue from where he was perched in the lower branches of a large tree, a blue blanket draped over his shoulder.  Bofur’s eyebrows rose in surprise and Fili didn’t blame him.  The boy was obviously a human and Fili guessed him to be around ten years old.  Considering that they had not seen any others of the race of men during the explorations, Fili had not expected to find a child.

 

“Hello,” Bofur replied, his natural affinity for children kicking in. “What’s your name?”

 

“Estel,” the boy told them. “It means hope. What are your names?”

 

“I’m Bofur,” Bofur smiled, giving a bow. “At your service, Master Estel.”

 

Estel laughed and climbed down from the tree, obviously having climbed trees for quite a long time.

 

“Fili,” Fili offered his name in introduction.

 

“Ori, and this is my brother, Dori.”

 

“Bilbo Baggins,” Bilbo added in.  Estel looked at Bilbo curiously.

 

“Forgive me for asking... but you’re a hobbit, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes... yes, I am,” Bilbo commented in surprise, having not expected such a young child of men to be familiar with hobbits.

 

“Do you come from the Shire?  I’ve never been there, but I’ve been told that the elves pass through there on their way to the Gray Havens.”

 

“Yes... they do, although I never had the fortune of seeing one, although not from lack of trying,” Bilbo replied.  Fili snorted.

 

“When did you go looking for elves?” Bofur asked disbelievingly.

 

“When I was young, I would spend entire days in the woods looking for elves,” Bilbo told them, his cheeks blushing at the admission. “Of course, I haven’t done it since I came of age. You know how you do foolish things when you are young.”

 

“Oh, lads, can you just imagine wee Mr. Baggins off looking for elves?” Bofur laughed and Dori and Fili both dissolved into gales of laughter at the thought of a young Bilbo looking for elves.  Ori was too enamored with their surroundings to pay attention to the teasing of his companions.

 

“We better not tell Thorin. I don’t think he’ll appreciate the thought of our burglar liking elves,” Fili teased.

 

“So, Estel, what are you doing?” Bilbo asked, trying to focus the dwarves’ attention elsewhere.

 

“Oh, I’m playing a game with my brother.  He’s training now but after lunch we will finish the game.  I have to hide something precious of his,” Estel held up the blanket, “and he has to hide something of mine.  We give each other clues and then we have to find the hidden object.”

 

“Sounds like a fun game... Is that your brother’s blanket?  I hope he won’t be upset that you have it.  I know if I had taken Bombur’s blanket from him when he was a wee lad he would have gone running to Ma.”

 

“Yeah, it’s Kee’s blanket but he doesn’t mind. He had it when he was a baby but he’s big now or at least, as big as he’s going to get, so he doesn’t need it.  He even had his name written on it... see?” Estel held up the blanket and Fili’s gaze fell on the stitching... the name spelled out in dwarven runes in achingly familiar stitching on the dark blue cloth... the same shade as Thorin’s tunic.  He was dimly aware of Bofur gripping his arm but Fili ignored the supportive gesture...ignored everything else, except for the little boy in front of him, innocently holding the blanket up so the dwarves could see.

 

“Where did you get that from?” Fili asked in a low, dangerous and very Thorin-like sounding voice that had Dori and Ori gripping him, holding him back from launching himself at the defenseless boy.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Thorin, Balin and Dwalin all struggled in vain to look remotely interested as Elrond prattled on about the dangers they were walking into, about how it was unwise for them to attempt to reclaim Erebor.  Thorin and Balin had heard it all the night before, when Elrond had read the moon runes, and Thorin glared at Gandalf who gave him a sympathetic grimace in reply. 

 

Elrond sighed at the stubbornness of dwarves. “I see that nothing I will say will convince you to set aside your quest, so instead I wish you luck and good fortune in your journey and I hope to hear word of the reestablishment of a dwarven city in the halls of Erebor in the near future.”

 

Thorin inclined his head, rising to his feet. “My thanks, Lord Elrond, for your counsel and advice... and your hospitality.” It was an empty thanks, but it was as good as Elrond was going to get.  Elrond sighed and gestured for Thorin to stay seated.

 

‘There is one more thing that I wish to discuss with you, Thorin Oakenshield, a private matter.”  

  

“There is nothing you can say to me that you cannot say in front of my friends,” Thorin protested.  Elrond straightened his back.

 

“Very well.  Last night I was made aware of the... happenings, of 62 years ago... involving your son.”

 

The reaction was immediate.  Thorin’s already cold glare turned icy and Dwalin got up and made a threatening step forwards, stopping only when Elrond held up his hand, indicating he was unarmed.

 

“Gandalf,” Balin protested, “I didn’t mean for ye to go and blab the story to the first elf we encountered.”

 

“You told the wizard,” Thorin growled at Balin.

 

“Indeed I did... the hobbit too. A gesture of goodwill I am beginning to regret.”

      

“Peace, Balin, son of Fundin.  I only shared the story with Lord Elrond because I believed that he might know something to add to the tale.”

“And I do.  I may have information for you about... about what may have happened to your son.” 

 

“What do you mean? Kili was slain by orcs, I know elf arrows and orc arrows, and they were most certainly orc arrows.  The elves were not involved, unless elves are in league with orcs.”

 

“Elves despise orcs just as much as dwarves do, Thorin.  Please, can you describe Kili as he was the last time you saw him?”

 

“Small, dark hair, big brown eyes, small nose, no teeth yet, his hair just brushed the tips of his ears and it curled at the ends... just like his uncle’s did.  He was crying the last time I saw him but he’d started smiling a few months before.  I was the first one he’d smiled at and Fili was there too.  He loved laughing at Fili... he would laugh for hours and hours.  He never cried, not unless something was really wrong... and he was crying when they carried him away, like he knew that he was going to die… That I wouldn’t see him again until we were reunited in Mahal’s halls.” Thorin’s gaze was distant and they all knew that Thorin was lost in his thoughts, his memories of his lost son.  Nobody said anything when they saw the tear roll down Thorin’s cheek, nor did they mention the way his voice caught midway through the sentence.  Balin and Dwalin exchanged a look.  Thorin was not going to sleep tonight and when he did eventually pass out from exhaustion; his sleep would be plagued by memories and nightmares about Kili. 

 

“Any key identifying features?” Elrond carefully asked. “A birthmark perhaps, or a scar.”

 

“Kili’s skin was free from the marks of war and he was too young for common childhood injuries. He was just a babe, what kind of monsters do you think we are?” Dwalin protested angrily.

 

“Kili had a birthmark, his right side, over his bottom rib.  It looked like an arrowhead.  Oin said it was an omen that Kili would be a great archer,” Thorin said in a distant voice and Elrond closed his eyes, remembering Erestor making the exact same comment about the mark the elves had observed on the dwarf babe’s right side.

 

“Lord Elrond?” Gandalf questioned, seeing Elrond’s reaction.  Elrond covered his face with his hand and then nodded.  Balin and Dwalin, both of them with supporting hands on Thorin’s shoulders as Thorin struggled to be free of his memories, looked on in confusion at the interaction.

 

“Alright, what in the name of Aule’s armies is going on here?” Dwalin finally snapped.


	5. Chapter 4

Elrond leaned back comfortably in his chair and exhaled, savoring the sweet air of the hidden valley and the sweet scent of the many flowers that were blooming in the gardens.  The scent soothed him and resolved him to do what he knew he had to do.

 

“It began the autumn 62 years ago, before your son was born.  I made plans to spend the winter with friends I had not seen for eons at the Grey Havens, so I collected my two closest advisors as well as some who were planning to sail and we journeyed west.  Those who were planning to sail did and I spent the winter with my friends until the season began to turn to spring and I decided it was time for us to return to Imaldris.  We’d been riding along the road for two days with no real haste when we encountered the scene.  It appeared that the group of dwarves had been attacked the night before by orcs.  The pyre the orcs had built was still smoldering when we arrived and the head on a pike indicated enough who the victors of the skirmish were.  We heard the sound of a baby crying off the path and I went to investigate.  We found a dwarf babe, alive, hidden in a hollow beneath a fallen log, weak and cold after spending almost a full day alone.  He was wrapped in a blue blanket with the name Kili stitched into it in dwarf runes, so we guessed that was his name.  We bathed the child and clothed him the best we could in material torn from our own spare clothing.  One of my advisors went to the river and we found a nanny goat there, obviously tame.  We guessed she had been cut free during the skirmish, fled into the forest, and had stayed close to a source of water.  We fed him some goat’s milk and kept him warm.  We asked around a few nearby towns in the low lands and the southern reaches of the northern range of Ered Luin but no one knew where Kili belonged, so we took him with us and returned to Rivendell.  The child we found... Kili... he physically matched the child you just described to me, including the birthmark.  We were never aware of whose son he was but if we had been, I would have personally returned Kili to you, Thorin Oakenshield.  I cannot imagine the pain you must have endured these past 62 years since then and for that I am deeply sorry.”

 

The three dwarves were silent, all of them looking at Elrond with varying degrees of shock.  It was Thorin himself who broke the silence.

 

“He... he’s alive?”

 

“Yes, he was ill for most of the spring the first year he was with us but since then he has flourished and grown well, strong as any of Durin’s line.”

 

“Why did you not go south? Surely it was not too far to travel from the Grey Havens to the southern reaches of Ered Luin,” Dwalin protested but Thorin shook his head.

 

“It was our own fault.  I was too fearful of Kili being kidnapped or murdered by rival dwarf clans or my other enemies that would see the line of Durin finished, so I kept the news of Kili being my son as quiet as possible.  Even his name... it is part of the disguise, so if needed we could pretend he was Dis’ son and Fili’s brother... not... not my own son.  Few knew that Keeva was even pregnant and only some of those who did knew that the child was mine.”

 

“I can’t believe it.” Balin smiled. “After all these years, the little one has been alive.”

 

“Aye,” agreed Dwalin. “Even if it means that he’s been brought up by elves.”

 

“They had no obligation to,” Thorin said in a serious voice as he studied Elrond’s face. “Why did you keep Kili, even if you did not know who he was? What was your intent?”

 

“Not all elves are as callous as Thranduil was the day he abandoned you and your people, Thorin Oakenshield.  I am not in habit of abandoning helpless infants who appeared to have been orphaned.  Besides, here in Rivendell, I knew he would have the best chance of surviving should he become ill and I am unfortunately not familiar enough with any dwarves that I trusted enough to take in a foundling or were in the position to do so... especially dwarves that would take a infant from the hands of an elf, even if the child was a dwarf.”

 

Thorin slumped in his seat, accepting Elrond’s response.  Dwarves were naturally suspicious, especially of elves. They had been even before the fall of Erebor and in his heart he knew that few dwarves would interact with an elf long enough for the elf to hand over a child.  The moment Kili had been picked up by the elves, removed the hollow that had saved him from the orcs, he had been doomed to being brought up by elves until he was such an age that he could look after himself, a point of life which Thorin knew Kili would not have reached had  the elves not intervened.

 

“You say that you brought him here. Does... does he remain here? May we see him?” Thorin asked, hopefulness in his voice that had not been there for many years.

 

Elrond surveyed Thorin, noting the hopefulness in Thorin’s eyes... the hope that Thorin dared not voice after so many disasters and misfortunes throughout his life.  Elrond nodded, knowing that his conscience would not allow him to separate father and son any longer.

 

“Certainly, I will lead you to him.  Kili often has training with my elder sons at this point of the morning.”

 

The three dwarves were on their feet in a moment, standing by the archway that led away from Elrond’s study.

 

“Well... what are you waiting for?” Dwalin asked Elrond and Gandalf, leaving the taller occupants of the room to share a wry grin before they got to their feet and led the three dwarves through the house and out to the gardens, where the training area was.

 

Thorin’s mind was spinning.  After all these years, Kili was alive.  There had always been a part of him that had hoped that Kili had somehow escaped... they had, after all, never found the prince’s body but now, to know that he was finally going to see his son again, now all but grown up.

 

All of the questions Thorin had never allowed himself to think now danced through his mind.  Did Kili take after his mother or Thorin himself?  Was he tall or short?  Had Oin’s premonition about archery proved correct?  Would Kili be happy to meet him or would he be resentful of what had happened?  That was the question that Thorin’s mind lingered on.  Things between Thorin and his father had always been strained, even before the fall of Erebor, and afterwards things had just gotten worse.  Now, would Thorin and his own son get along?  Thorin hoped so, but then another thought came to him... what about Fili and Kili?  Would THEY get on?  With Kili being found, it was likely that Thorin would make him his heir, a role that Fili had been training and preparing himself for ever since birth, with the exception of the year that Keeva was pregnant and the time between Kili’s birth and disappearance.  Thorin knew that Fili was lonely... would Kili be the one who eliminate the loneliness his elder cousin felt?

 

Thorin realized, with a pang, that he had already unconsciously assumed that Kili would agree to going on the quest.  Thorin hadn’t yet decided if he was going to invite Kili to go with them... he was still very young, after all.  Gloin’s son was marginally older than Kili and Gloin hadn’t let him come along... but then, Gimli was so far down the line of succession that Thorin doubted that the fiery red-haired youth would ever come close to being called King Under the Mountain... barring a disaster of course.  Gimli was, as things currently stood (and including Kili as Thorin’s heir), tenth in line behind Thorin himself, Kili, Fili, Dain and his son, Balin, Dwalin, Oin and Gloin.

 

Thorin was so lost in his thoughts that he almost walked into Elrond, had it not been for Dwalin’s hand on his shoulder.  Elrond had stopped, looking down a side path.  Thorin frowned when he spotted a human boy, about ten years old, being followed by Fili, Bofur, Ori, Dori and Bilbo.

 

“Thorin, they think they know...” Fili began, his hands tightly gripping a piece of blue material, worn and faded with age but still unmistakable to Thorin as the blanket Dis had lovingly embroidered with Kili’s name mere hours after the baby had been born... the same blanket Thorin had swaddled his infant son in to keep him warm the winter following the tiny prince’s birth.

 

“I know, Fili... I know,” Thorin told his nephew.

 

“Estel, what happened?” Elrond asked the young boy.

 

“They saw Kili’s blanket. I was hiding it early for this afternoon.  I thought Kili might like to meet them since they’re dwarves too.  Did I do the wrong thing, Ada?”

 

“No, Estel, you did not.” Elrond smiled. “Come on, let’s see what your brothers are up to.”

 

Estel skipped over to Elrond and walked beside him as they descended down a flight of stairs.  Thorin could hear the clashing of metal and voices, all speaking Elvish.  Of course, Thorin thought with a pang.  Kili had grown up with elves, he was going to speak the elven tongue… Thorin just hoped Elrond had thought to teach Kili Common as well, otherwise it was going to be very awkward, especially when Thorin and Kili were alone.  Thorin had learned how to speak Elvish as a child but his hatred of all things elvish and the many years that had elapsed since then had made his knowledge of the language sketchy at best.

 

All thoughts of language, however, fled Thorin’s mind as he rounded a corner in the stairs and his haze fell on the clearing below.  Two elves, identical to Thorin’s eyes, were in the clearing along with a single dwarf.  One of the elves was sitting back and watching, calling out in Elvish from time to time, while the other two were practicing with swords.  Thorin’s eyes fixed on the dwarf, who had his back to the approaching group.  His hair was long and dark, like Thorin’s own, and unbraided.  He was wearing a tunic but even from this distance, Thorin could tell that the dwarf... Kili was thinner than most dwarves. 

 

The elf the dwarf was fighting shifted and the dwarf turned in response, letting Thorin see his face.  Thorin’s heart leapt into his throat and he stopped breathing, his knees threatening to give way beneath him.  From behind him, Thorin heard Balin let out a gasp and Dwalin let out a low, hushed curse but he ignored them, all of his senses focused on the young dwarf before him.

 

The deep brown eyes, the smaller than normal nose, the smile, the full cheeks with the slightest beginnings of a beard... Kili looked near identical to Frerin the last time Thorin had seen his little brother before Frerin’s death at the tender age of 48.

 

“Mahal,” Bofur softly exclaimed from where he stood behind Thorin, Dwalin, Balin and Fili. “It really is him.”

 

Down in the courtyard, the elf that was coaching from the sidelines glanced up, observing Elrond, Estel, Gandalf, and the dwarves accompanying them.  He frowned curiously, cocking his head to his side, before he called something in Elvish to the pair that was fighting.  Thorin expected the pair to stop but instead the fighting became even more intense, even faster.  Kili, although obviously less experienced and far smaller than the elf he was fighting, kept pace, blocking and parrying the strikes of the elf before striking out against the elf.  It was all over quickly when Kili twisted, firmly kicking his right foot into the back of the elf’s knee, causing the elf to stumble.  Kili took advantage and with a quick strike, had the elf’s sword dropping to the ground.  Wordlessly, Kili gently tapped his sword against the elf’s throat and obvious simulated death blow before he stepped back.  The elf who had been observing caught Kili’s gaze and flicked it up towards the assembled watchers and Kili looked up.

 

Thorin was sure his heart stopped beating the first time Kili opened his eyes and looked at him, the day he had been born.  Now, 62 years later, Thorin felt the same way the first time Kili’s gaze met his own.  Thorin could see the curiosity, the bright, keen intelligence that burned with Kili in that single moment before Kili looked away, focusing on Elrond.

 

“Ada,” one of the elves greeted. “We weren’t expecting you... or company. If we had, we would have put on more of an exhibition.”

 

“The display was impressive enough, Elladan. I simply wish to speak to Kili,” Elrond told the elf.

 

“Of course,” Kili replied, sliding his sword into its sheath at his hip before he moved across the courtyard to where the elf who had been watching (Thorin guessed from Elrond’s words that it was Elladan) had been sitting.  Once there, Kili picked up a bow and a quiver full of arrows, slinging it over his back, before approaching Elrond and the others.

 

“It looks like Oin’s theory about the archery was correct,” Thorin heard Dwalin mutter to his brother.  Balin hushed his brother and Thorin guessed he gestured that the other dwarves leave and let Thorin and Kili be reunited in private.  Fili let out a hushed protest and Thorin gave his nephew a glance, his heart clenching at the pained look on Fili’s face as Balin and Dori ushered him away with the others.  Fili had missed Kili almost as much as Thorin had and to be forced away after finally laying eyes on his baby cousin... it was obviously hurting the younger dwarf.  Still, Thorin hoped that within a few hours, Fili would be free to be reunited with the baby cousin he and grieved for and missed so much.

 

“Shall we?” Elrond gestured up the stairs and Kili nodded, leading the way up, followed by Thorin, Elrond and Gandalf, leaving Estel behind to be distracted by Elrond’s eldest sons. 

 

As they walked back towards Elrond’s study, Thorin could not tear his eyes off Kili.  He knew he was staring but he couldn’t help it.  His son... Kili was mere feet away from him, after all these years of assuming that Kili was dead.  Kili too was looking at Thorin, shooting curious side glances at the older dwarf.  Living where he did, Thorin thought it was likely that Kili had never even met another dwarf, which was probably the greatest contributor to Kili’s curiosity, but a part of Thorin’s heart hoped that Kili, at least subconsciously, recognized him or at least had noticed the resemblance.  While it was undeniable that Kili looked more like Frerin than Thorin himself, Thorin and Frerin had born a strong resemblance to one another and those that were supposed to be watching the two princes when they were young back in Erebor often got the pair mixed up.

 

Having finally reached Elrond’s study, Thorin, Gandalf, Kili and Elrond sat, Kili looking at all three elders.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“Kili, I would like to introduce you to Thorin Oakenshield, heir of Durin’s line, and rightful king of the mountain realm of Erebor... who is also your father.”

 

Thorin blanched, having hoped that Elrond would be slightly more tactful than that, but kept his emotions hidden as he watched Kili’s reaction.  The young dwarf’s tanned skin paled considerably and for a moment, Thorin was worried that Kili would pass out... not that Thorin would blame him. It was a rather sudden surprise.  Kili, however, remained conscious.  He opened his mouth to say something but then snapped his jaw shut, before trying again and losing confidence before he could utter a sound. 

 

Finally Kili simply shook his head. “I’m sorry... What did you just say?”

 


	6. Chapter 5

Kili was pale as he looked from Elrond to Thorin and then to Gandalf, as if he was expecting one of them to start laughing at some practical joke.

  
“Thorin Oakenshield is your father, Kili...” Elrond repeated gently. “I never knew who your father was, as I have always told you, but having heard certain truths since Thorin and his company arrived in Imaldris, I believe this to be the truth.”

 

Thorin himself remained quiet as Kili’s eyes widened and he slumped a little in his seat as Elrond began to retell the story of the night he found Kili, although it was a much abbreviated version.  Kili was obviously familiar with most of it and no signs of surprise crossed Kili’s face.  As Elrond repeated his story, Thorin considered what he was going to tell his son.  

 

Thorin didn’t know how Kili felt about his past. Did he resent Thorin for not growing up with his own people?  Would Kili accuse Thorin of abandoning him?  Would he even accept Thorin’s side of the story?  Thorin reasoned that he would find out soon, when Elrond finished his tale, and everyone looked at Thorin to tell his side of it. What had happened before Elrond found Kili in the woods near the Grey Havens?

 

Taking a steadying breath, Thorin repeated the story, not allowing his voice to catch as his emotions flared, his own past experiences not allowing him to show any emotion in front of an elf.  In his mind, though, he couldn’t help but relive the story as he told it through his memories... the joy he had felt when Keeva had told him of her pregnancy, the anticipation he had felt as he waited for the day of his child’s birth, the fear he felt the day Keeva’s home was burned with her still inside, and the happiness that had filled him the moment Dis had put Kili in his arms for the first time, closely followed by the grief of Keeva’s death and the fear that Kili would not survive the cold, hard winter that followed.  Thorin struggled with his feelings as he spoke about the day he realized that Kili would be targeted by Thorin’s enemies and the day that Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, Dis, and Keeva’s sister all agreed that Kili should be separated until Kíli was old enough to protect himself from his father’s enemies.  Thorin’s mind was flooded with memories of the day he last saw his precious son, cradled in his aunt’s arms, crying and reaching out for Thorin. 

 

Thorin’s voice croaked dangerously when he told Kili, Elrond, and Gandalf about the day he sent the letter to Bofur, recalling the churning in his gut that told him something was wrong, and the blind panic that had followed when Thorin had received Bofur’s report that no one had arrived.  The hardest part, however, was talking about finding the remains of the ambush, the remains of the dwarves had been badly damaged by the fire and then by animals and the passing of time and about how there had been little other evidence of any survivors.  The discovery of the sling that Kili had been carried in, torn and covered in blood, had devastated Thorin and Thorin remembered little of the months that followed as he grieved for the son he had lost, only really being brought back by Fili, who refused to give up on him, even though the younger dwarf was also grieving for his lost cousin.

 

Kili was silent the whole way through the story and when Thorin finished and had brought himself to glance at the younger dwarf’s face, Kili’s face was downcast and slightly turned away, so that Thorin couldn’t see the look on his face.  Thorin swallowed, hoping that Kili would give an indication to what was going through his head because Thorin had no idea what he should do next.  Even a sideways glance at Elrond and Gandalf proved to be unhelpful.

 

“Kili... If I had ever even heard a rumor that you were still alive, I would have searched for you, no matter where you were... even if it meant going into the halls of Erebor and taking you back from Smaug or into the dark plains of Mordor itself. I would have fought to get you back with me… even if it meant never going back to Erebor, giving up everything that I have and ever could gain or get back, as long as I had you back at my side,” Thorin said, his voice catching once again as he tried to convince the younger dwarf that Thorin had not abandoned him. “Letting you go that day, it was the biggest mistake of my life. I should never have let you out of my sight.”

 

Kili shifted in his chair and slowly, almost uncertainly, he shifted his face towards Thorin.  Thorin saw the unshed tears sparkling in his son’s face and he felt his heart clench as he realized that he had been the one to put them there... he had made his own son cry and Thorin hated himself for it.

 

“For... for my entire life, I’ve wondered what happened to my parents. I wondered if they’d been killed in the orc attack, I wondered if they had escaped and left me behind, I wondered if they were even there that day... if I had been orphaned or abandoned before then and the dwarves I was traveling with were not actually related to me.  I’ve always had all these questions in my head and I’ve never been able to answer any of them... until now.” Kili broke off, swallowing, taking a moment to regain control of his emotions before he continued.

 

“I hated it, not knowing who I was... whose son I was, if I had any blood family left, not knowing where I really belonged... and now I know and you’re here... and...and…” Kili sobbed and lunged forward into Thorin’s arms.  Instinctively, Thorin wrapped his arms around Kili’s shaking body as Kili sobbed onto his shoulder.  Thorin whispered soft reassurances into Kili’s ear as he rubbed his son’s back, not noticing as Gandalf and Elrond glanced at one another, both a little teary-eyed themselves, and Gandalf got up and left the study, leaving Elrond alone to watch the young dwarf he had raised with the father Kili had never known about.  It pleased Elrond to see Kili and Thorin reunited after so many years.  Ever since hearing Thorin’s story from Gandalf, Elrond had prepared himself for this moment. He knew that Kili would fall into Thorin’s arms, having always been upset about not knowing anything about his family.  Now, to have his real father back and to know who Kíli himself really was, it was everything Kili had ever wanted.  Elrond knew that the relationship between himself and Kili would change from now onwards but he did not doubt that they would still be close, even if Kili no longer called him Ada.  Kili had a big heart and he loved, and was loved, by many.

 

Still, a thrill of sadness went through Elrond.  Kili and Estel had bonded over not knowing who their fathers were, of not having any blood family. It was one of the main reasons the two were so close, among many others.  Kili had been reunited with his father but Estel would never have that opportunity.  Arathorn was long dead and his young son would never see him again

 

Elrond was drawn from his musing by the feeling he was being watched.  Thorin was still clutching Kili close to his chest and Kili still had his head nestled into Thorin’s shoulder, clutching tightly at Thorin’s fur cloak, but Thorin was looking at him over Kili’s shoulder, his eyes brimming with tears that he would never let fall in front of an elf.

 

“You... you have my deepest thanks for looking after my son and for permitting my company and I to stay and rest here for a short while,” Thorin said and Elrond was amazed by the sincerity in Thorin’s voice.  Thorin still hated elves and Elrond knew that would in all likelihood never change; but for Thorin to acknowledge and thank Elrond like he had in such a genuine way touched Elrond deeply.  

 

“I am simply pleased that Kili has been reunited with his family... although he will always have family and a home here in the valley of Imaldris.”

 

Kili sniffed and turned his head to face Elrond, pulling back from Thorin so he could approach Elrond, hugging the elf tightly.

 

“Thank you, Ada. I love you,” Kili whispered in Elvish.

 

“And I love you, Kili.  You will always have a home here, know that... no matter what happens and what choices you make,” Elrond replied in the same language.

 

Kili nodded. “I know, Ada,” he replied in the common tongue, pulling back from Elrond.

 

“You have much to catch up on. Go, I will see you at dinner.”

 

Kili smiled as Thorin rose to his feet, slowly walking towards the door.  Kili turned to follow him, glancing over his shoulder once at Elrond, who nodded encouragingly, before the young dwarf beamed and followed Thorin out of the study.  Elrond let out a heavy sigh as they left, knowing that things would never be the same again but not knowing exactly how he felt about that.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Kili and Thorin were silent as they walked aimlessly through the halls of Rivindell.  Thorin was quite lost, although he would never admit it to Kili.  Kili, on the other hand, seemed to know where he was, so Thorin followed Kili’s lead wordlessly until the younger dwarf stopped.

 

“This is, er… this is my room,” he said as he opened a door and gestured, inviting Thorin inside.  Thorin looked around and felt mildly surprised.  The room wasn’t nearly as elvish as he had imagined it would be.  Sure, the architecture was definitely elvish but the decorations were almost all dwarven in style... and some of them were definitely dwarf-made.

 

Kili crossed the room, removing his weaponry, and placing the bow, quiver, and sword he was carrying on top of a chest before he dropped down onto a comfortable looking couch.  Thorin followed Kili and sat on the couch, his gaze resting on Kili’s choice in weaponry.

 

“I saw you sparring before. You have some skill with a blade,” Thorin commented.  Kili shrugged, his cheeks coloring slightly at the compliment.

 

“I’m okay with a sword but I’m much better with the bow.  I’m better at archery than some of the elves here.”

 

“Really?” Thorin asked, pride seeping into his voice.  Frerin had favored the bow too but to hear that Kili was able to outshoot an elf was a pleasant surprise.

 

Kili nodded. “I practice and work hard at it. I often go out hunting for food with my brothers and I am sometimes the only one who actually brings anything down.  Oh... right... you have to excuse us for the little joke last night at dinner.”

 

Thorin raised an eyebrow at Kili curiously, indicating that the younger dwarf should elaborate.

 

“I had nothing to do with it. In fact, I think it was Lindir who came up with the plan to only serve fruit and vegetables last night, knowing that dwarves are partial to meat... although my elder brothers may have encouraged him a little.”

 

“I did not see you last night at dinner.”

 

Kili smiled mischievously. “Well, I was watching... It was the first time I’ve ever seen dwarves, so of course I was there... in hiding.  I was to nervous to approach anyone, so I hid and watched from a distance, although I think one of the other dwarves spotted me ... the one with his hair shaped like a star.”

 

“Nori,” Thorin murmured to himself.  Trust someone like Nori to know where to look for hidden observers.

 

“What do you know about dwarves?” Thorin asked

 

“Mostly just what I learned from books and what I’ve been told by others,” Kili admitted. “My Ada... I mean, the lord Elrond,” Kili flinched at the slip, “he has a great number of books about dwarves, many of them written by dwarves in the dwarvish language.”

 

“You know Khuzdul?” Thorin asked in surprise.  Khuzdul was, after all, a secret language for none other than dwarves to utter and Thorin had never expected Kili to know any of it, considering his upbringing.

 

“I can read and write dwarf runes but I can’t speak Khuzdul. None of the elves here know more than a few words. I never really pushed it since I knew it was a secret language,” Kili replied. “Elrond and the other elves didn’t want me to grow up completely isolated from my kin, despite being brought up by those who many of my kin would consider to be enemies.”

 

Thorin frowned at the comment but otherwise said nothing.  Kili ducked his head, not knowing if he had shown too much cheek, and they fell into an uncomfortable silence, neither dwarf knowing what to say.

 

Finally, Kili broke the silence. “Do... do I have any other family... other than you?  You said my mother is dead... and my aunt died in the orc raid. Is there anyone else?”

 

Thorin nodded. “My sister, Dis, and her son, who travels with me... Fili.  There are other, more distant relatives too; most of whom also accompany me.”

 

“And where do they accompany you to?” Kili asked, drawing his knees up and resting his chin on them, looking up at Thorin curiously.  Thorin studied Kili, taking in how young he still looked.

 

“Erebor,” he replied. 

 

Kili frowned. “The Lonely Mountain. Isn’t it still inhabited by the dragon?”

 

“Smaug hasn’t been seen for sixty years. He may be dead for all we know, leaving the treasure of my forefathers... and yours as well... unprotected.  Birds are returning to the mountain and it has been foretold that when that happens, the return of the king of Erebor is sure to follow.” 

 

“What are you going to do if Smaug isn’t dead?” Kili asked. 

 

Thorin shrugged. “Well, it is not likely that he will suspect our approach.  We will have the element of surprise.  Dragons can be slain, just like any other foe.”

 

Kili studied Thorin with wide eyes, the hidden meaning clear to him.  The dwarves would reclaim Erebor or die trying.

 

“But... there are so few of you. Lindir told me you numbered only thirteen.  Thirteen dwarves and a single wizard against Smaug, the fire drake who took Erebor in the first place.”

 

“Twelve dwarves,” Thorin corrected. “Twelve dwarves and a hobbit.” Thorin snorted as he mentioned Bilbo, doubting the hobbit would do much good against Smaug.  Sure, he had managed to stall the trolls and Thorin had been inwardly impressed with the hobbit’s resourcefulness but he still failed to see what good Bilbo would do against the might of the dragon.

 

“A hobbit... from the Shire?  Gandalf used to tell me about those, about how they live in peace, keeping their gardens and making the most delicious food you have ever tasted.” Kili smiled before a frown crossed his face. “I wasn’t allowed to help them during the Fell Winter. I was too young but my elder brothers did... and the rangers and Gandalf too.  They told me about how the hobbits couldn’t defend themselves from the white wolves, about how whole families were torn to pieces... men, women... children, all killed by the wolves or from the cold or from starvation or from illness.  So many of them died that winter.  Gandalf said he had never seen the hobbits so frightened and disheartened.”

 

Thorin frowned at Kili’s words.  The Fell Winter had been hard on the dwarves too but there had not been too many fatalities, thank Aule, and those that had perished had fallen to illness.   Thinking back, Thorin remembered the look of fear on Bilbo’s face when they had heard the howling of the wargs in the distance and he inwardly cursed as he realized there had been something more behind Bilbo’s fear.  Not a week before, Bilbo had been telling the younger dwarves about how almost all of the hobbits knew one another and how many of them were related.  Bilbo would have known many hobbits that had died during that period, both friend and family.  Still, Thorin forced those thoughts away, focusing on his son instead.

 

“If... if you like, I will introduce you to my company. They are all very curious about you. Many of them knew you when you were a babe and grieved when we thought you were lost.”

 

Kili dropped his gaze, studying the pattern of the rug on the floor rather than look at Thorin. “I’m sorry,” he murmured in a soft voice. “For... for you and your kin having to go through that.   I was once told that losing a child is the most painful thing anyone could ever go through. I would not wish that pain on anyone and I am sorry you had to go through so many years of grief.”

 

“It was not your fault. You could not have done anything. You were so small; I could hold you in one arm.” A small smile crossed Thorin’s face as he thought about how small Kili had been.  Now Kili was much bigger, still a little shorter than Thorin – about Fili’s height, Thorin guessed.  At only 62, Kili still had eighteen years of growing left in him, at least, and Thorin knew that Kili would overtake Fili in height, given time.  Kili, however, was slightly built for a dwarf with a smaller than average nose and a slightly elvish element to the tips of his ears... much like Frerin had.  Despite his slender build, Thorin could tell that, beneath his tunic, Kili was strong and muscular.  While Kili and the elf had sparred, Thorin had seen the strength Kili was using and the elf certainly hadn’t been holding back.

 

“I’m sorry you lost Erebor... and that... and that the elves of the Greenwood didn’t help you too,” Kili added.

 

“That definitely was not your fault,” Thorin replied. “You were not even born at the time.”

 

Kili shrugged. “Still, I’m sad that Thranduil didn’t help you fight Smaug or even offer aid.  I’m sure Lord Elrond would have been more helpful.”

 

“Have you ever met Thranduil?” Thorin asked curiously. 

 

Kili shook his head. “I’ve never been to the Greenwood and Thranduil rarely travels far from his homeland... but I’ve met his youngest son though... Legolas.  He gets on really well with my brothers and he spends a lot of time here.  He often used to tell me stories of the dwarves of Erebor, from what he remembers when he visited the mountain.  He’s the only Greenwood elf I know well.”

 

Thorin dimly remembered Legolas from the time before Erebor but not well enough to remember what sort of elf the young elf had been.  Kili looked sideways at Thorin curiously.

 

“I know you might not think it but not all elves are like Thranduil.”

 

Thorin looked at Kili, surprised by the earnest, serious look on the younger dwarf’s face, making him look decades older than he should.

 

“I know,” Thorin admitted and it was the truth.  He had long known that not all elves were the same but Kili’s reappearance in his life had forced him to accept that one day he might have to start treating elves differently, as opposed to hating them all.

 

Still, Thorin had thought up with a question and he was reasonably sure that Kili wouldn’t be prepared for it.

 

“Do you know much about the line of Durin?”

 

“Only what was in the dwarven history books and scrolls that I studied when I was young. They were the most powerful of the dwarf clans and they had strongholds in Moria and Erebor.  The line of kings of those realms were Durin’s line...” Kili faded off, his skin paling a little, and he turned in his seat looking at Thorin.

 

“The... the last king of Erebor before the dragon was Thror of the line of Durin.  All of his descendents survived the fall of Erebor... his son, Thrain and... and you, Thrain’s son,” he continued, his voice hushed as realization sunk in.

 

Thorin nodded. “Thor’s descendents include my siblings as well, and now my sister’s son...and you, Kili.  You are my heir, as you have been ever since you were born.  Should I fall, the title of King under the Mountain falls to you, my only son.”

 

Kili swallowed and for a moment Thorin was very concerned that the young dwarf was going to ‘do a Baggins’ and faint but Kili instead took a deep breath.

 

“Please don’t die, okay? Just, don’t die.  I don’t think I know enough about being a dwarf to be very good at being a king of them.”

 

Thorin gave Kili a reassuring smile and put his arm around the younger dwarf, gently hugging him close to his chest. “I promise I will do all in my power to not die, as long as you make the same promise to me.  I have already lost you once. I do not think I could survive going through that again.”

 

Kili hesitated before smiling and leaning into Thorin’s chest, enjoying the warmth the other dwarf offered. “I promise that I won’t die.”

 

Thorin hesitated before he pressed his lips to the top of Kili’s head, unable to believe that he was hugging his son.  He felt the same elation he had felt the day Kili was first placed in his arms by Dis now as he hugged Kili close and Thorin savored the feeling, tears falling freely down his face now that they were alone.  The world was an unpredictable place, Thorin mused.  He had never known when he had gotten up that morning that he would be reunited with Kili and now, here he was, holding his son for the first time in 62 years.

 

All thoughts of Erebor and the treasure within the mountain left Thorin and instead he found himself wishing with all his heart that this moment could last forever.


	7. Chapter 6

Kili could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he followed Thorin into the guest wing, his hands shaking in fear and anticipation as Thorin led him towards the rest of the company of dwarves.  Kili had led most of the way but he had fallen back once they reached the guest wing.  He could hear the loud voices of the dwarves as they talked and laughed and Kili knew his nerves were getting the better of him.

 

“Are you alright, Kili?” Thorin asked quietly and Kili jumped, startled that his fear had been obvious enough for someone who did not know him well.

 

“I’m fine,” Kili replied quickly.  Thorin stopped, turning so that he was facing Kili before resting his hands on the younger dwarf’s shoulders.  Kili hesitantly looked up at Thorin, deep brown eyes meeting blue.  

  
“Kili, you have nothing to be concerned about. They will not hurt you, I promise.”

 

“How do you know for certain that it’s even me... that I am the same dwarf that you lost all those years ago? I mean, I know that your story and Lord Elrond’s did collaborate and I know that I kind of look a lot like you and young dwarves aren’t exactly common from what I’ve read, so the chances of two of us being in the same general location aren’t great, but... are you certain?”

 

“Kili,” Thorin said, tightening his grip on Kili’s shoulder reassuringly. “I know it is you. I knew from the moment that Elrond told me that he had a dwarf living here, I knew it was you when he told me his story, I knew it was true... that you were the baby that I foolishly gave up 62 years ago, the moment I laid eyes on you as you trained.  You look so much like your uncle, you know... same eyes, same hair, same nose.  You have your mother’s fingers, though... much more slender than mine or any other member of my family.” Thorin smiled ruefully. “But what made it apparent, to me and my company, is this.” At that, Thorin gently tapped Kili’s chest, right over where Kili’s heart was pounding in his chest. “You are a true son of Durin’s line… his heir.  You have the courage of a Durin, the honor of a Durin... and most especially, the strength of a Durin.  By Elrond’s reckoning, you were alone in the wilds for almost a full day when you were less than half a year old and you survived against all odds and if that doesn’t indicate that one who has survived that sort of thing has strength, I don’t know what does.”

 

Kili smiled ruefully. “I guess when you put it like that,” he admitted. 

 

Thorin nodded. “If it makes you feel better about it not being a case of mistaken identity, Elrond described the birthmark that you have on your side and my son bore the exact same mark as an infant... the same location, the same shape.... identical... and there are few that know of that mark, all of whom I trust with my life, or are dead.”

 

Kili rested his hand over his side and shifted his tunic, revealing the tanned skin beneath with the arrowhead mark still exactly where Thorin remembered it on Kili’s side.  Thorin smiled at the sight of the mark, still so familiar after the many years that had passed 

   
“The day you were born, Oin said that you were going to grow up to be a great archer because of that mark, the greatest dwarf archer there ever was,” he told Kili in a soft voice. “I didn’t know whether or not to believe him. I should have, though.  I should have had more faith in you... and I shouldn’t have given up on you. I am sorry we never found you.”

 

“It’s alright. I know you tried and if Elrond and the others hadn’t found me when they did, I wouldn’t have survived another night out in the open,” Kili replied, lowering his tunic and straightening it before continuing to tug on his clothing, adjusting it, and combing his fingers through his hair in a attempt to neaten it.  Thorin shook his head and let his hand drop from Kili’s shoulder.

 

“You look fine. You have no need to worry, Kili.”

 

Kili gave a shaky nod, smiling sheepishly, and Thorin touched his forehead to Kili’s before pulling away and pushing open the door to the room the dwarves had been given.  Kili hesitated before he took a steadying breath and walked through the door.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Fili leaned wordlessly on the railing surrounding the balcony to the room the dwarves had been given, gazing into the distance, oblivious to everything that was going on around him... the looks that were being sent at his back from the other members of the company, the dull murmur of voices, the sound of the wind whistling through the trees.  The only thing Fili was aware of, outside of his own turbulent thoughts, was the worn but obviously well loved blue blanket he had in his hands, his thumbs stroking the stitching, tracing the dwarf letters that his own mother had sewn there so long ago.

 

Balin had filled everyone in on what had happened... that it looked like Thorin had found his long lost son, Erebor’s lost prince, who had been thought dead for so long.  All of the dwarves had been familiar with the story and most of them had been involved at some point, even if it was just watching Thorin and his family struggle through their grief in the aftermath of Kili’s supposed death. 

 

No one, however, had been so greatly affected as Fili, who had sought the solitude the balcony offered, gazing into the gardens and losing himself in his thoughts and his memories of Kili as a baby.  The young dwarf he had seen, sparring with the elves, had been completely different to the baby Fili remembered, smiling at him from Thorin’s arms, tugging at Fili’s hair and trying to chew on the beads at the end of the golden braids.

 

“You alright, laddie?” a voice from behind Fili asked and Fili startled, jerking out of his memories before relaxing and taking in Balin’s presence.

 

“I’m fine,” Fili told the elder dwarf.

 

Balin raised a single eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe, laddie.”

 

Fili turned back, looking out over the gardens.  In his head, he imagined Kili racing through those same gardens as a child, his movements becoming more refined and graceful as he grew older.

 

“I can’t believe he’s been alive all this time. We all thought he was dead and instead he was here.   I missed him so much growing up. There was so many times I wished he was there and he wasn’t... he was gone and now, he’s here and…” Fili broke off, his voice catching.  He ducked his head, trying to hide the tears that had filled his eyes from the view of his uncle’s closest advisor.  Balin, however, knew that Fili was close to tears and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

 

“I know, laddie. We all wished he’d been there with you and your uncle and your mother.”

 

“Do... do you think Thorin will want to bring him with us?” Fili asked.

 

“It’s difficult to say. The lad is still very young.  Gloin and Thorin said no to Gimli and Gimli is older than Kili... just.”

 

“But Kee... Kili is the heir,” Fili pointed out. “It was one of the reasons why Thorin wanted me to come along.”

 

“Well, yes,” Balin admitted thoughtfully. 

 

Fili looked back at the older dwarf, sensing where Balin’s thoughts were taking him. “I don’t care about not being the heir anymore, Balin. I never cared about it.  Ever since Kili was born, he’s been the heir in my head... even when he was gone.  I felt wrong being introduced as Thorin’s heir when Kee was gone.  As time passed, I forced myself to get used to it. I tried to act like I thought an heir should act... but really I always didn’t feel right in that role... and I would have been a really bad king.”

 

“Do not sell yourself so short,” Balin chided. “You would have made a wonderful king.”

 

“Not like Thorin.”

 

“Well, I do think that Thorin has put his own stamp on the title but that means little.  All kings are different, Fili... and yes, they do make mistakes.  What marks a real king, a great king, is what they do when things aren’t going well.”

 

“Like Thorin, the day Thror died?” Fili asked, remembering the story of the battle of Moria.  Balin nodded.

 

“Exactly.”

 

Fili nodded looking back out at the valley “I couldn’t believe how much like Thorin Kili looked.  I couldn’t see any of Keeva in him.”

 

Balin, however, shook his head with a wry smile. “What you saw... it wasn’t Thorin. It was Frerin.  Kili takes strongly after Frerin, although you are right. From what I have seen, there is little of your father’s, and Kili’s mother’s, family traits in him.”

 

“Tough to say, though,” Dwalin said, having overheard Balin’s comment and joining his brother out on the balcony with Fili. “What with Frerin being so young when he died. Kili’s already older that Frerin was when he died.”

 

“True,” Balin acknowledged sadly, remembering the moment that he and Balin found Thorin screaming, tears pouring down his face as he cradled his younger brother’s dead body, Frerin’s lips stained with blood and his chest studded with orc arrows, the younger prince’s bow broken on the ground and his sword gripped in stiff fingers.     

 

 Fili sniffed and wiped his face with his sleeve.  He had never met the younger of his two uncles but he had seen a picture of him and Thorin together.  The resemblance between the two had been uncanny.

 

“Do you think Thorin will want to bring Kili with us, Dwalin?” Fili asked. 

 

Dwalin frowned. “Yes, he’ll want to. He won’t want to let that boy out of his sight. But whether or not he will... that’s another matter.”

 

Fili nodded in agreement.  Dwalin was right, Thorin would not want to let Kili out of his sight, but at the same time, they were on a highly dangerous journey.  If Kili were Fili’s age, or even Ori’s, it would not be so much of an issue, but he wasn’t.  Fili did not want to be the one to make that choice and he was grateful that it was solely on Thorin’s plate.

 

Fili glanced down at the blanket in his hands and smiled as he remembered Kili as an infant wrapped in the blue fabric, gripping the edge with tiny fingers, as Thorin cradled his son close to his chest.

 

“Do you remember Kili’s blanket?” Fili asked the two dwarves.  Dwalin snorted.

 

“Ah, yes, of course I do. I remember watching Thorin try as wash baby vomit out of it one time so that Dis wouldn’t know that Kili had thrown up on the blanket she made for him.”

 

Fili and Balin both snorted in laughter at the idea of Thorin trying to wash away all evidence of the blanket being dirtied.

 

“Kili was always wrapped up in that blanket or in Thorin’s cloak,” Balin said in a soft voice, reaching out an aged hand to feel the material. “I never expected it to have survived the ambush, let alone still be in existence sixty years later.”

 

Fili nodded. “I remember watching Thorin wrap Kili... and being amazed by how gentle he was being. I’d never seen Thorin being so gentle with something... and then the first time I got to hold Kili, the day after he was born.  He was so small back then... and now he’s almost as tall as I am.”

 

“Ah... Thorin knows how to be gentle. You should have seen him the day you were born. He was convinced he was going to drop you or that he was going to break you or something.  He kept finding excuses not to do it until Dis smacked him on the head and shoved you at him.” Dwalin grinned. “One of the few times I’ve seen Thorin genuinely look scared.  It’s a good thing you were born first, though. I don’t know how Thorin would have dealt with Kili being as small as he was without being a little prepared about how small dwarflings are from when you were born, even though you were definitely bigger than Kili was when he was born”

 

“Not to mention Gimli being born a few months before Kili, although Gimli was even bigger than Fili,” Balin added. 

 

Fili frowned in confusion. “But Thorin would have known how small babies are, from when Frerin and Mother were born, wouldn’t he?”

 

“Well... that was a long... long time before, Fili,” Balin reminded him. “And Thorin was much smaller back then. He was only five when Frerin was born. I don’t even know if Thorin remembers back that far and he was fourteen when Dis was born and she was the last dwarfling he spent a lot of time with until you were born.”

 

Fili nodded, conceding that Balin had a point, before going back to his examination of the blanket, his mind fixed on the day he and Dis had given the blanket to Thorin and the infant Kili.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all...I hope you are all enjoying this fic. If you are interested in fanart, check out the adorable drawings of baby kili that were inspired by this fic done by Draconizuka on Tumblr.
> 
> The next chapter will be a flashback chapter from Fili's point of view. I will upload it asap.
> 
> http://draconizuka.tumblr.com/post/57113898713/based-on-fanfic-kili-of
> 
> I am so excited about this...if anyone else feels inspired by this fic, go ahead...tell me about any work you do in a comment so i can check it out!!!
> 
> R.W.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili remembers the night that Kili was born, and the following morning, when he first gets to meet his new baby cousin.

EARLY WINTER: YEAR 2879 OF THE THIRD AGE

 

ERED LUIN (SOUTHERN RANGE)

 

HOME OF THORIN OAKENSHIELD  

 

Fili looked up from the book he was reading at the sound of a light tapping at his bedroom door.  Fili blinked and opened his mouth to call out to the person on the other side before snapping his mouth shut, remembering his mother’s warning to keep quiet.

 

Fili had no idea what was going on.  It had been late in the day and his Uncle Thorin had been due home shortly.  As he always did, Fili had been helping Dis prepare their evening meal, waiting for Thorin to stride through the door so that Fili was in a good spot to launch himself at his uncle.  Thorin would always catch him and swing him up in the air, laughing as Fili yelled in delight.

 

That day, though, Fili was distracted from the peas he was shelling by the sound of loud voices approaching the house. 

 

Dis too had frowned. “Fili, go and look outside and see what’s going on. I haven’t heard the town watch horns go off but something is amiss.”

 

“Alright.” Fili had nodded, sliding off his chair and hurrying to the door, running up to it and pulling it open before stepping out onto the covered porch that Thorin normally sat on while he was smoking his pipe and peering out down the street, shivering slightly as the cold wind blew past, carrying the smell of smoke.  Fili’s eyes widened when he spotted Thorin, along with Dwalin, Balin, Oin, and a few other dwarves Fili didn’t know quite so well, coming up the street, Thorin carrying a limp body in his arms.  Fili had felt his stomach plummet as he saw the gold hair, so much like his own (and his father’s) on the motionless figure as he was forcibly reminded of the day, a few years before, when his own father had been carried home by Thorin, having been killed defending the town during an orc raid. 

 

“Ma!” Fili had yelled, running along the stone path that led to the front gate before throwing the gate wide open.  Thorin, Balin, Oin and Dwalin all passed through but the others hovered at the gate.  Fili’s eyes widened as he saw who it was that Thorin was carrying.

 

“Aunt Keeva?” he asked, his voice cracking.  Thorin breezed past him, followed by Balin and Oin, meeting with Dis at the door, who held it open for her brother and distant cousins.  Dwalin, however, stopped with Fili, ruffling the younger dwarf’s hair affectionately.

 

“Mister Dwalin... what happened?” Fili asked, a little tearfully.  Dwalin took Fili by the shoulder and led Fili towards the house.

 

“Wait until we’re inside, lad. It’s mighty cold out here.”

 

Fili let himself be brought inside and let Dwalin sit him on the warm couch.  Balin had poked the fire into life and Fili couldn’t see his mother, Uncle Thorin, Aunt Keeva, or Oin, although he guessed they were in the back of the house. He could hear muffled voices coming from Thorin’s room.

 

“What’s going on?” Fili asked again.

 

“Shh, lad, we’ll let your ma answer that question. Everything going to be great, though. What have you been up to today?”

 

Fili had frowned and answered Dwalin’s questions while Balin took over preparing dinner.  For his part, Fili went back to shelling peas into the bowl until he spotted Dis emerging from Thorin’s room, her face pale.

 

“Ma?” Fili asked, getting off his chair and crossing across the room to her. “What’s going on?”

 

“It’s alright, Fili. There’s been an accident.  Your auntie Keeva’s house caught fire and she got burned, that’s all.”

 

Fili knew that that wasn’t all. He could read his mother’s facial expressions too well and Dis, usually calm even in dire situations, was worried.

 

“Is the baby okay?” he asked, thinking about his baby cousin.

 

“Yes, I’m sure the baby is fine.  Listen, Fili... I want you to go to your room and stay there until I come and get you, okay?  No matter what you hear, you stay in your room and stay quiet... Your aunt Keeva needs her sleep.”

 

“What about dinner?”

 

“Balin will bring it to you when it’s cooked and you can eat it in your room together, like a picnic on the floor.  How does that sound?”

 

“But I’m not allowed to have food in my room,” Fili had protested in confusion.  Dis had forced a smile and ruffled her son’s golden hair.

 

“We’ll make it an exception just this once, okay?”

 

Fili had nodded and headed off to his room.  Not long afterwards, Balin had come in with both of their dinners and had eaten before Balin had given Fili a new book to look at and taken the dishes away, reminding him that he had to stay in the room.

 

Not long after Balin had left, the screaming had started.  It was quiet now but Fili had been terrified by those screams.  He knew it must have been his aunt Keeva and Fili knew she must have been very badly hurt to have been screaming like that.

 

Fili blinked out of his thoughts to the sound of someone knocking on his bedroom door.  Fili slid off his bed and went and opened the door, blinking sleepily. He was certain it was past his bed time. 

 

On the other side of the door stood Dis, giving him a wan, tired looking smile, her sleeves folded and rolled up past her elbows, as if she had been cooking.  Dis crouched down in front of him and rested her hands on his shoulders, looking at him with a sad look on her face before she pulled him into a tight hug.

 

“Ma?” Fili asked in a soft voice, resting his chin on his mother’s shoulder.

 

“Yes, my darling baby?” Dis replied in a subdued and equally soft voice.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

Dis sighed, leaning back out of the embrace but still keeping her fingers on Fili’s shoulders as she looked at Fili, their matching blue eyes locking onto one another.

 

“Alright, quickly go to the wash room and brush your teeth and wash your face and then come back in here and I’ll tuck you in and tell you what’s happened.”

 

Fili nodded and hurried to follow his mother’s orders, doing all he had to do before bed in the wash room before he returned to his room.  Dis was sitting on the edge of Fili’s bed and Fili, who had already changed into his bed clothes, snuggled close to her beneath the covers as she tucked them securely around him.

 

“Well, Fili, you remember how I said that Aunt Keeva got burnt by the fire?”

 

“Yes,” Fili replied.

 

“She was hurt by the fire far more than we thought. She was hurt very badly.”

 

“Did she die... like Papa did?” Fili asked, knowing there was a connection to being badly hurt and death from his own father’s death.  Fili still sometimes dreamed of that day, when he had been carried into his parents’ room by Thorin and allowed to hug has father one last time and say goodbye.  Fili remembered how his father’s chest had been covered in bloodied bandages and the cuts on his hands and fingers were still fresh and weeping blood... the way his father’s breathing seemed to falter with every word he weakly croaked out.  Fili remembered how Thorin had carried him from the room, taking him outside to play, both of them with tears rolling down their cheeks.  Fili never saw his father again after that.

 

Dis bit her lip, contemplating how to answer Fili’s question before she nodded, her eyes welling up with tears.

 

“Yes, Fili... she has died.  She’s with your papa... her brother... in Mandos’ halls now... at peace.  They will both always watch over you, though.” 

 

“Is Uncle Thorin very sad?” Fili asked and Dis kissed the top of Fili’s head.

 

“Yes, very... but Fili, there is more I have to tell you.  Before she died, Auntie Keeva gave birth to your baby cousin.”

 

Fili’s eyes widened in excitement. “Really?”

 

“Yes, but he is very small and sick. He might not survive, Fili.  It was too early for him to be born but if he wasn’t born now, he would have been lost with his mother.”

 

Fili sniffed, his excitement vanishing as his eyes welled with tears. “What’s his name?” he asked.

 

“Kili... Thorin named him Kili, so that you would both sound the same.  Fili and Kili, grandchildren of Thrain... the heirs of Durin’s line.”

 

Fili sniffed. “Can I go and see him?” he asked.

 

“Tomorrow... How about tomorrow we give him his blanket?”

 

Fili nodded and sniffed and Dis kissed the top of his head again before getting to her feet.

 

“I’ll go and get it then, so I can put his name on it and we know whose blanket it is.”

 

Fili nodded and waited for his mother to return.  He fell asleep watching as she lovingly stitched the runes spelling out Kili’s name into the soft blue material.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

The next morning, Fili slept in, worn out from the late night the previous night.  Silence lay heavily on the house, like a heavy shroud.  Balin and Dwalin were still there, wordlessly helping Dis as she prepared breakfast, and Oin and Gloin visited briefly, hurrying into Thorin’s room and staying there for over an hour, both of them leaving looking grim-faced. Fili clung close to his mother as she finished the stitching on the blanket before she carefully wrapped the blanket in a thin cloak of Fili’s that he had outgrown and tying it with a ribbon.

 

“Alright, then,” Dis whispered. “Let’s go... Remember to be quiet.” She carefully put the bundle in Fili’s arms for him to carry.  Fili nodded and followed his mother to the back of the house, where Thorin’s room was.  Dis gently tapped on the heavy wooden door of Thorin’s room before pushing it open.

 

The first thing that Fili noticed was how warm the room was.  The rest of the house was not cold but Thorin’s room was noticeably warmer but at the same time not stifling, like it was when you stood too close to the fire at Thorin’s forge.

 

Thorin himself was sitting in the large chair that had been in Thorin’s room for as long as Fili could remember, looking at them.  Fili bit his lip and only stepped forward when Dis gave him a gentle push from behind.  As Fili moved, he caught sight of the tiny bundle in his uncle’s arms, wrapped in Thorin’s heavy cloak.

 

“Thorin,” Dis greeted softly. “How’s Kili?”

 

“Alright. He had some goat milk when Oin and Gloin were here, which Oin thought was a good sign.” Thorin spoke in a hushed voice as he glanced down at the tiny bundle in his arms.  Fili peered up at his mother.

 

“Was I ever that small?” he asked and Dis let out a soft laugh.

 

“No, thank Mahal you were not.  Kili was born too early, so he’s much smaller than other baby dwarves are when they’re born. Kili is much smaller than little Gimli.”

 

“Oh,” Fili said in understanding, surprised.  He had thought that Gimli was very small (and yet at the same time incredibly loud when he was crying).  Dis rested her hand on Fili’s shoulder and steered him towards Thorin and Fili tightly gripped the blanket in his arms as he looked at the little bundle in his uncle’s arms.  Fili swallowed fearfully, terrified that he would startle the baby or wake him up or somehow hurt him.  Kili was, after all, so very fragile.

 

“This is for Kili,” Fili said, offering the bundle to his uncle.  Thorin smiled and carefully Kili was transferred into Dis’ arms so Thorin could take the wrapped parcel from his nephew.

 

“Thank you, Fili, I’m sure he will like it.” Thorin smiled, unwrapping the cloak to reveal the blanket as Dis cooed at her nephew.  Fili wished he was a little taller, so he could see the baby bundled so securely in Thorin’s cloak.

 

“Shall I wrap him up in it now and keep him warm?” Thorin asked and Fili nodded.  Thorin lay the blanket out on the flat surface of Thorin’s bed and Dis skilfully unwrapped Kili from Thorin’s cloak before lowering the sleeping infant onto the blanket.  Kili watched in amazement as Thorin rewrapped Kili in the new blanket, amazed by how gentle Thorin was being, as if he was handling glass or some precious ornament.

 

“It’s perfect. Blue suits him,” Dis told her brother

 

“Of course it does, he’s a Durin,” Thorin replied with a smile, picking Kili carefully back up and sitting on the edge of the bed.  Fili inched closer until Thorin patted the bed beside him invitingly with his free hand, given that he only needed one arm to cradle Kili securely.  Fili slowly climbed up onto the bed, looking at the bundle in his arms.  Fili knew immediately that his mother had been right.  Kili was tiny, even smaller than Gimli had been when he had been born.  Everything about Kili was small, his mouth, his nose, his ears, his entire body, even the smattering of dark hair that he had on top of his forehead.  Dis was right though, blue did suit him.

 

As if he knew he was being watched, Kili stirred and opened his eyes, lips pursing together in concentration as he tried to focus on those looking at him.  Thorin smiled and pressed a kiss to Kili’s forehead.

 

“Hello, Kili,” Fili greeted in a hushed voice. “I’m Fili and I’m your cousin... and I’m going to help Uncle Thorin and Mama look after you until you’re big and strong and you can look after yourself and even then I’m always going to have your back, just like Mister Dwalin has Uncle Thorin’s.”

 

In the blanket, Kili wiggled and a small arm emerged from the blanket.  Instinctively, Fili reached out to tuck the limb back away. His mother had said that Kili needed to stay warm but he blinked in surprise when Kili tightly gripped his finger instead.  Fili froze, not knowing what to do, and glanced at Thorin.  Thorin, for his part, had torn his gaze from his son and was instead looking at Dis over the top of Fili’s head..  Fili was alarmed, however, to see the tears rolling down Thorin’s cheeks.  He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong... if he should do anything but then decided against it.    Instead, he looked back down at Kili, who was still tightly clutching Fili’s finger and looking up at him.

 

“Don’t ask me,” Fili whispered to the baby. “Grown-ups make no sense at all.  I have no idea what is going on.”  Kili let out a gurgle in response before he curled into Thorin’s chest, dozing back off again, still gripping Fili’s finger.  Fili followed Kili’s lead and leaned against his uncle, enjoying the moment of closeness that Fili knew would happen less frequently now that he was getting older and now that his uncle had his own child.  In response, Thorin put his free arm around Fili’s shoulders and held him close.

 

“I think he likes you, Fili,” Thorin told Fili in a soft voice. 

 

Fili nodded. “I hope he does.”

 

THE HOBBIT

 

LATE SUMMER: YEAR 2941 OF THE THIRD AGE

 

RIVENDELL

 

HOME OF LORD ELROND HALFELVEN  

 

The sound of the door to the room the dwarves were sharing opening jerked Fili from his memories and he was immediately aware that he had zoned out, causing Balin and Dwalin to give him very concerned looks. 

 

Fili shook his head at them and led the way back into the room, wiping his face to hide any signs of his tears in time to see Thorin walk in, casting his eyes over the room until he spotted Fili before giving a quick grin and walking towards Fili.  A moment later, a second dwarf walked into the room and time stood still.  Fili felt his throat swell with emotions, his mind filled with a single word.

 

Kili.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you hadn't already picked up on this, this is a flashabck chapter, from Fili's point of view, back to the night Kili was born. In my head Kili is born in december (or the dwarf version of december). Gimli was born the previous Summer. Kili was lost in the following April.
> 
> I hope that clears up any questions you have.


	9. Chapter 8

Kili was certain that if somebody dropped a pin in the room, it would have been heard clearly by everyone. That was how quiet the room he had stepped into was.  He could feel every eye resting on him and although Kili usually liked being the center of attention, he shifted his feet slightly, not having any idea of what he should do.

 

It was one of the older dwarves that stepped forward first, one of the small group that Thorin had joined when he had walked into the room.  Kili watched nervously as the dwarf approached him, taking note of the dwarf’s long white hair and beard... obviously one of the eldest, if not _the_ eldest member of the company.

 

“Balin, at your service,” the dwarf greeted with a bow.  Kili swallowed, a lump forming in his throat.

 

“Kili, at yours and your family’s,” he replied, the good manners that Elrond had raised him with flowing naturally, although it did take him a moment to remember to respond in the common tongue and not Elvish... something he was certain would not go down well with his present company. 

 

Balin beamed. “You’ve grown up a great deal from when we saw you last, laddie.”

 

“You’ve got that right, brother. He was barely the size of a loaf of bread back then,” another dwarf, the one who had moved to stand at Thorin’s right-hand side, chimed in and there was a smattering of laughter from various other dwarves.

 

Kili didn’t laugh but his smile did become a little less forced.  Kili glanced over at Thorin and the young dwarf who stood on his other side.  This, Kili guessed, was his cousin, the son of Thorin’s younger sister and also, if Thorin was to be believed, the son of Kili’s mother’s brother.

 

Kili pulled his gaze from Thorin and the other young dwarf and glanced around at the other dwarves watching him.  The hobbit was easy to pick out, the only one without any trace of a beard and also a good few inches shorter than even the smaller dwarves, who were about Kili’s height.  The hobbit looked nearly as uncomfortable as Kili felt and Kili sorry for him.  From the little he knew of hobbits, he knew they were a quiet race who kept to themselves and so for a hobbit to be caught up in such a personal moment as this with a group of dwarves he probably did not know very well, Kili could only imagine how uncomfortable the hobbit was.

 

Kili’s gaze fell on the remains of the dwarves’ cooking fire from the previous night and a small smile spread across his face.  Elladan had told him that morning about how the dwarves had had a late night feast but Kili smirked at the sight of the bits of furniture that had survived the campfire.  A few of the dwarves saw what Kili was looking at and shifted uncomfortably.

 

“Er... sorry about that,” one of them, the only one wearing a hat, sheepishly muttered. 

 

Kili shrugged. “It is no matter to me. I was not one of the ones involved in the prank yesterday.  It was Lindir that Erestor threw a fit at last night, though, and I think my elder brothers were scolded this morning for their encouragement of the joke.   I think in compensation Erestor has ordered for a deer to be roasted for dinner tonight.  My brothers and I think that he’s terrified that you will tell others of how the elves of Rivendell are bad hosts.  Erestor is very proud of Rivendell’s reputation.”

 

Several of the dwarves perked up at the promise of roast venison for dinner and the largest dwarf with a thick, rope-like red beard licked his lips.

 

“You mean, that was just a prank... a joke?” one of the dwarves with an impressive long red beard asked. “The tree shaggers... I mean, the elves, they eat meat?”

 

“Yes,” Kili replied with a grin. “Not as much as men do, nor as much as dwarves, I imagine, but yes, they do partake in the consumption of meat.  And yes, it was a joke, although it was perhaps badly planned, considering the history between elves and dwarves.  Your reactions, however, were almost worth it. Elladan and Elrohir were struggling to keep a straight face throughout the entire meal.  It was amusing to watch everyone’s reactions... well, for me it was, anyway.”

 

 “How did you know what we looked like?” the tall dwarf beside Thorin asked. “I did not see you there dining with us.”

 

“He was there. I saw him hiding in the bushes on the next platform over... watching us. Of course, I didn’t realize who he was. Otherwise I would have told you all before,” The dwarf Kili recognised as the one who had spotted him chimed in.

 

“Sneaky little blighter,” the dwarf in the hat laughed before taking off his hat. “Bofur, at your service,” he said with a bow.

 

“Kili, at yours and your family’s,” Kili replied.

 

“I’ve always been told that elves didn’t have a sense of humor,” a younger dwarf put in.  Kili guessed that, other than the hobbit and himself, the dwarf was the youngest and was also the least experienced warrior, judging from the woolen scarf and mittens the dwarf had on and the general litheness of the dwarf’s figure.

 

Thorin and the older dwarf beside him snorted in amusement and the older dwarf sitting protectively close to the dwarf who had spoken bit his lip nervously at Kili.

 

“Ori, shh,” he hissed. “I’m sure that elves have a... wonderful sense of humor.”

 

Kili smiled reassuringly. “Oh, trust me, they do have a sense of humor. Sometimes it can be a challenge to get them to grow up and be serious.  My elder brothers act as though they are children most of the time and they are over 2500 years old.  What you say, however, is true of many elves.  Erestor, for example, has not laughed in 1000 years, I have been told.”

 

“1000 years?” It was the hobbit who spoke this time. “He must live a very sad existence. Imagine going that long without a laugh.”

 

Kili shrugged. “He’s nice enough and there are few that are more knowledgeable than he but he’s just very serious... and wouldn’t know a joke if it shot him in the backside... and I mean that literally. Elladan tried it once.”

 

A few of the dwarves laughed at Kili’s joke at Erestor’s expense and Kili smiled, letting himself marginally relax.  Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad after all, he found himself thinking as he leaned casually against a wall, taking in the dwarves he was meeting.  As he watched, he became aware of the young, blond-haired dwarf who had been at Thorin’s side but was now slowly moving closer to Kili, cautiously approaching him.  He stopped a few steps away from Kili.

 

“Er, hello,” he greeted. “I’m Fili... I’m your cousin.”

 

“Thorin mentioned you.” Kili nodded. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

“I know... Mahal, I missed you so much, Kee.” As he spoke, Fili closed the distance between the two before he enveloped Kili in a hug, holding him close.  Kili stiffened in surprise at first before he relaxed into the embrace as Fili buried his face into his cousin’s shoulder, holding his shoulders tightly.  Being hugged by his cousin felt surprisingly like it felt to be hugged by Elrohir, Elladan or Estel and Kili couldn’t stop himself from smiling.  Here, in Fili’s arm, he felt safe, as if there was some part of his subconscious that remembered Fili from Kili’s infancy. 

 

Kili’s eyes fell on Thorin as Kili put his arms around Fili, retunring the slightly older dwarf’s hug, noting with some surprise the moisture building in the elder dwarf’s eyes.  No one else, however, seemed to noticem as they were either watching the cousin’s reunion or busily pretending to be going about their own business but at the same time trying to watch Fili and Kili. 

 

“I can’t believe you’re here. All those years of thinking you were gone and you were still alive all this time.  My mum is going to be ecstatic when she finds out that you weren’t killed when you were little.  I have to say, though, Balin’s right, you’ve grown up a bit.  The last time any of us saw you, I could carry you. Not that Thorin let me very often... he was a bit paranoid about you and he was terrified that I was going to drop you, even though I was almost twenty-one,” Fili whispered the last part to Kili, who couldn’t stop himself from snorting. 

 

“Oh, by the way, this is yours. The human boy gave it to me to give back to you,” Fili said, pulling back a little and handing over the blue blanket he had been holding. 

 

Kili took it in his hands. “Thank you, I’ll have to let Estel know that I have it back,” he said to Fili. “He borrowed it for a game we were going to play this afternoon. It’s training of a sort... tracking and all that.”

 

Fili nodded in understanding, remembering afternoons spent traipsing through the woods looking for trails as a boy, trying to pick out the one he was supposed to be following.  He’d never been very good at it.

 

“We... we saw you fighting, before, with the elves,” Fili told his cousin. “You’re pretty good.” 

 

Kili nodded. “Thanks... I guess.  Swords aren’t really what I’m best at but I was taught early on that you need something to fall back on for close-quarter fighting.”

 

“What’s your preferred weapon... a bow?” Fili asked.

 

Kili gave a small smile and shrugged shyly. “Yes... It’s not very common among dwarves, I know, but growing up in an elvish settlement, it was bound to happen, I suppose ...and the others say I’m actually very good at shooting, for a dwarf.”

 

The excitement from Kili’s arrival had begun to fade and the dwarves drifted off into their own small groups, breaking into new, quiet conversations, although they all frequently glanced at Kili in shock, awe, and curiosity.  Kili forced himself, however, to ignore him and focused instead on his cousin and the dwarves that had drawn closer to him.  Among them were Thorin, Balin, Balin’s brother (who was the tall dwarf who had stood at Thorin’s side but whose name Kili did not know), the older red haired dwarf, the other young dwarf (the one with the knitted mittens), and the older dwarf that followed the younger dwarf around and had chided him for his innocent comment about the humor of elves.

 

“How has your journey been so far? Elladan and Elrohir told me about the trolls,” Kili asked curiously, eager to hear about the dwarves’ journey thus far.

 

“Not too bad, a little wet in places due to the rain, but other than that it has been quiet,” Balin told him.

 

“That’ll change once we enter the foothills of the mountains,” Balin’s brother grumbled, glancing towards the balcony.  Kili knew that the dwarves’ room was positioned looking east, towards the Misty Mountains.

 

“There have been many reports lately of goblins on the mountain passes,” he told the group, earning surprised looks from those around him.

 

“You have journeyed through the mountains?” Thorin asked.

 

Kili shook his head. “I have but not in the last four years.  Lord Elrond likes to keep the pass open for travelers such as yourselves and there has been an marked increase in goblin activity in the last five years. Three elves were killed last spring by goblins in the pass.  It’s one of the reasons I have not journeyed east in a while.”

 

“This news bodes ill for our quest,” Balin sighed. “The Misty Mountains are treacherous and difficult to cross at the best of times, even without the threat of goblins.”

 

“Where were you going? When you were in the mountains... were you just on a patrol or where you going somewhere else?” The young dwarf with the mittens asked Kili curiously. 

 

Kili smiled at the question. “What do you know of the geography of Middle Earth?” he asked.

 

“Ori knows it well. He is a student of the written word and also an artist.  He is responsible for the chronicling of our journey,” Balin told Kili with more than a hint of pride in his voice as Ori blushed at the praise. 

 

“You may have heard of the elvish community in the woods of Lorien, then,” Kili said. “That was where I was going.  We cross the mountains at the Redhorn Pass and then ride south until we come near the eastern gates of Moria at Dimril Dale and then we go east into the woods.”

 

“They say that a great sorceress lives in those woods. An elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell...  and are never seen again,” Gloin said in a hushed whisper and Balin’s brother and Thorin nodded in agreement.  Kili looked at the older dwarves with his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

 

“You cannot be talking of the Lady Galadriel?  Well, whoever says this is proved to be wrong, for I have laid eyes upon her many times and I am obviously here.”

 

Fili snorted and hastily dropped his gaze to hide the grin on his face while Balin coughed to hide his amusement.

 

“That you are, laddie, that you are... and I am glad for it.”

 

“What interest did you have in journeying to the woods of Lorien?” Ori asked.

 

“The Lady Galadriel is the mother of the Lady Celebrian, who is the wife of Lord Elrond.  My sister... that is, the Lady Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond, lives in the home of her grandparents.  Before you ask, no, the Lady Celebrian does not dwell in this house or in the home of her parents but rather over the sea, in the Undying Lands.”

 

“What happened?” The dwarf beside Ori asked.  Kili guessed that he was either Ori’s father or his brother. 

 

“She was poisoned by an orc’s arrow and it pained her so much that she chose to sail rather than dwell here, her days plagued by pain that would rob her of any pleasure she felt in the home she loved so much.  I ask that none of you mention it to any elf you encounter here or anywhere else, however, for it causes pain to all who knew her.”

 

“Did you?” Thorin asked, “know her, I mean?” 

 

“No... this all happened many years before any of us were born... about 250 years, by my reckoning, before Smaug destroyed Dale and occupied Erebor,” Kili explained.

 

“Have you seen battle before?” Fili asked. “Journeying with elves like you have, you must have encountered some fighting.”

 

Kili shifted, noticing on how the older dwarves present seemed to become more interested, and he realized that he was being judged... being tested on his degree of battle experience.

 

“A few small skirmishes with orcs, both while journeying abroad and during local patrols with the other elves, no more that forty orcs against myself and at least five elves at a time, more if we were abroad, we number about twenty when the whole family is traveling.  If there was a great risk of being attacked, I usually am left behind because of my youth,” Kili reported honestly. “So, nothing significant.”

 

Kili did not miss the significant look Thorin aimed at Balin’s brother and the look he received in reply and he wondered if he had passed the test.


	10. Chapter 9

Kili glanced over his shoulder, checking to see that his companions were still following him, grinning happily.  Thorin and Fili followed behind him, Fili eyeing the bow in his cousin’s hand with a certain degree of caution.

 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked

 

“Of course,” Kili replied with a grin that reminded Thorin painfully of Frerin. “I’ve been doing this for over half my life. It’s just target practice.”

 

Thorin smiled at his son’s confidence.  It had been obvious to him in the room Thorin’s company had been given that Kili hadn’t been comfortable, being questioned and watched by the other dwarves, no matter how much Kili had tried to hide it. So, Thorin had jumped at the opportunity when Balin had suggested that Thorin take the boys and go for a walk, maybe to watch how good an archer Kili was.  Kili had obviously relaxed upon leaving the room and Thorin could easily see how much like Frerin Kili was in personality, as well as in appearance.

 

The fact that Kili had been uncertain and uncomfortable around the other dwarves had not overly concerned Thorin.  Kili had been raised in obscurity, believing that there was nothing particularly special about him, other than being the sole dwarf in Imaldris.  To suddenly be surrounded by eleven very loud and curious dwarves and to learn that he was their prince, and by rights heir to the throne of Erebor, the greatest seat of the dwarf lords, would have overwhelmed anybody, let alone a young dwarf of only 62 years.

 

“Here we are,” Kili announced, passing through an archway to reveal a long, open area, which was surrounded by a high, thick hedge.  At one end was a line of targets and at the other was a line of trees.  Two elves were standing there conversing and when they saw the dwarves enter, they broke apart, approaching the dwarfs.  Thorin eyed the elves warily, recognizing them as two of the elves that were present at dinner the night before while Kili inclined his head politely, saying something in Elvish.  Thorin guessed it was some form of greeting.  Both of the elves replied, their attention focused on Kili, although they gave Thorin and Fili curious looks as Kili replied in Elvish before he switched into the common tongue.

 

“Thorin, Fili, may I introduce you to the Lords Glorfindel and Erestor.  My lords, allow me to introduce Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, and his nephew Fili, son of Dis.”

 

Thorin recognized the names of the two elf lords who had been with Elrond the night Kili had been discovered and saved from a certain death and eyed them speculatively.

 

“Well met, Thorin Oakenshield,” the taller, blond-haired elf greeted with a bow.  Thorin inclined his head politely.

 

“Thorin Oakenshield, I trust you and your companions were not offended by Lindir’s foolish and childish prank at dinner yesterday evening.  I, for one, am most ashamed by his actions and pray you that you understand that it was in jest, regardless of how poor in taste the jest was.  I humbly reassure you that tonight there will be meat served at the tables of Lord Elrond,” the other elf said, sweeping into a low bow.  Kili rolled his eyes.

 

“Lord Erestor is the one who hasn’t laughed in 1000 years... do you believe me now?” he whispered to Fili, who nodded, amazed that someone could be so formal.  Even Bilbo, or Dori, would never be such a sticker for politeness.

  
“It is of little consequence,” Thorin grunted in reply. 

 

“The dwarves are lucky to have such a merciful leader.” Erestor inclined his head.  The other elf, which Thorin guessed was Lord Glorfindel, was frowning, looking at Kili and then at Thorin.

 

“It appears that you have found some kin,” Glorfindel said to Kili, who beamed, and Thorin felt his heart skip at how happy Kili was.  It made him realize that, even though Kili obviously had the love of Lord Elrond and his family and Thorin guessed he was well treated (for despite their faults Thorin did not know an elf who would be intentionally cruel to a child, even one who was a dwarf [Thranduil was an obvious exception]), Kili had always longed to find his real family and discover who he really was.

 

“Thorin is my father,” Kili told the two elves and Thorin couldn’t control the smile on his face at the pride in Kili’s voice at the words.  The two elves looked at one another.

 

“Then you are fortunate indeed,” Erestor said with a smile, “to have his lineage, a son of kings and a member of Durin’s line.”

 

“I must say this news is not surprising.  You have always had the look of Durin’s line about you. I just could not see it.” Glorfindel smiled, resting his hand gently on Kili’s shoulder, before he turned his face towards Thorin.

 

“My deepest apologies, Lord Thorin, for the pain and suffering you must have felt at losing Kili so young.  Had we known where Kili belonged, we would have returned him to you as quickly as possible, you have my word.”

 

“Indeed,” Erestor agreed. “Losing a child is a pain that I cannot even begin to fathom.”

 

“So, I imagine that you are planning on showing your father your archery skills,” Glorfindel asked Kili, who nodded, glancing back at Thorin, who gave him a reassuring nod.  Kili readied his bow, moving past the elves to a worn patch of grass before he selected an arrow from the quiver at his back and notched it to his bow.  Thorin, Fili, and the two elves withdrew to the stone bench behind where Kili stood and Kili began shooting. 

 

Thorin very quickly became aware that his jaw was in danger of hanging open but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  Kili was remarkable.  Far more skilled at archery than any other dwarf Thorin had ever seen.  It left his own shooting to look mediocre in comparison and of the dwarves accompanying them, Thorin was probably the better archer (although Dwalin would contest that claim).

 

Kili could shoot accurately from range, in different positions, from standing, to kneeling, to crouching, to being up a tree.  He never missed, always hitting the target, and almost always hitting the dead center of the target.

 

Beside him, Thorin was well aware of Fili’s awe at his cousin’s skill.  Thorin had taught Fili how to shoot but Fili had found himself not very well suited to it and had preferred learning how to throw knives and wield his double swords.

 

Eventually, the two elves left Thorin Fili and Kili alone on the archery field and Kili climbed down from the tree he had climbed, having emptied his quiver.

 

“So, what did you think?” Kili asked as he dropped lightly out of the tree, landing in a crouch.  Thorin couldn’t stop the proud smile that spread across his face as he took in his son.  Kili was obviously talented at using a bow... just like Frerin and, although Thorin hated to admit it, being brought up by the elves had only helped Kili take his skills to a level that Thorin knew Kili would never have been able to reach in Ered Luin.

 

“That was great,” Fili enthused, jerking Thorin out of his thoughts.  Fili had approached his cousin and engulfed him in a bear hug and Kili looked mildly surprised by Fili’s actions before he relaxed into the embrace, smiling happily as Fili hugged him tightly.  Thorin watched the pair fondly, especially when Fili looked back at him and smirked, his eyes shining with mischief, before he lifted his foot and hooked it behind Kili’s knee, knocking the younger dwarf off-balance enough for Fili to push him to the ground.  Kili struggled and within moments, the pair was wrestling on the ground, laughing and trying to pin one another.

 

Thorin smiled fondly as he watched them fight.  Fili had the upper hand simply because, even though they were about equal height, Fili had considerably more muscle than Kili and was stronger.  Kili, however, was putting up a good struggle.  Eventually, Fili pinned Kili and the younger dwarf lay, panting on his back, his eyes lit up happily.  Fili bent lower and whispered something into Kili’s ear and Kili nodded.

 

“Alright you two, get up, you’ve had your fun.  The others will be wondering where we are,” Thorin said, walking towards the two.  He missed the conspiring look the two young dwarves exchanged as he offered his hand to Fili to help him up.  Fili took Thorin’s hand, gripping it tightly as Kili swung out his leg; taking Thorin’s legs out from underneath him.  Fili pulled on Thorin’s arm and Thorin let out a very undignified huff of air as he hit the ground beside the boys, landing flat on his back.

 

Thorin took a moment to regain his breath before he turned his head to glare at the two younger dwarves, although inside he was smiling more than he had since before Smaug.  Kili looked unsure, quaking a little at the look on Thorin’s face, obviously frightened that he had incurred Thorin’s wrath, but Fili was grinning madly.

 

“Hello, Uncle,” he said innocently before he jumped off Kíli and onto Thorin.  It had been far too long since he and Fili had wrestled like this, Thorin found himself thinking as he struggled against his nephew.

 

“Kee, help me,” Fili yelled and Thorin glanced towards his son.  Kili was biting his lip uncertainly and Thorin could see how much Kili wanted to join in, he was after all so very young, but holding back, not sure if Thorin would allow it.  Thorin caught Kili’s gaze and grinned.  It was enough and Kili leapt into the fray with a battle cry.

 

The mini-battle kept going for quite a while with the teams constantly changing.  Kili and Thorin would gang up on Fili before Fili would join with Thorin and tackle Kili, tickling his sides where it appeared he was especially ticklish, before the two boys would reunite once again and try and get Thorin down.  It all ended with Thorin lying on his back, one arm holding Fili in a loose headlock, the other wrapped around Kili, who had his head resting on Thorin’s shoulder, still giggling from the last tickle attack Thorin had subjected him to.

 

“I wish we had more time to get to know each other,” Fili said in an uncharacteristically pensive voice. “I wish Kili had grown up back at home, so that we could have done this more.”

 

“It is fun,” Kili agreed. “I wish you weren’t busy on your mission... quest... thing... and that you could stay here for awhile.  I could take you out hunting to my favorite spots and we could hunt orcs and go and visit the Dunedain in the forests.”

 

The words ‘come with us’ were on the tip of Thorin’s tongue, but he forced them back.  It wasn’t his place to invite Kili on their quest.  Gimli had been turned back from joining because of his age and Kili was even younger (although not by much).  The decision to include Kili on the quest could not be made by him but rather, by the company as a whole.

 

Thorin blinked and looked over at Fili, who had a sad look on his face as if he knew what Thorin was thinking, and Thorin gave him a reassuring smile.

 

“We better go back, we’ve been here for ages, I’m sure you both have things to do.” Kili sighed, rising to his feet and brushing himself over.  Thorin and Fili followed the younger dwarf’s lead and got to their feet before they all trudged out of the clearing and back towards the main house.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Unknown to Thorin, Fili and Kili, their wrestling game had been seen, watched from afar by Elrond and Gandalf.  Elrond frowned, although Gandlaf was smiling, seeing how happy Thorin was.

 

“Would you let Kili go, if he was given the choice?” he asked Elrond, who shifted thoughtfully, raising his right hand to his chin.

 

“Yes, he would forever resent me otherwise.  He is young but he is strong... and a skilled fighter.  He is much like his forefathers – strong, resilient, and the stubbornness of dwarves flows thick in his blood. In hindsight, I should have known that Kili was a descendant of Durin the Deathless.”

 

“And yet you have doubts, my friend?” Gandalf prompted in Elvish. 

 

“I would keep him safely here in Imaldris until he is of age by dwarven standards but should Thorin offer him the chance to journey with his blood family, I would not deny Kili that opportunity, despite my misgivings about Thorin’s quest,” Elrond replied.

 

“Thorin would look after Kili. You see how much he cares about him and the others.”

 

“I know but should the worst happen and Thorin become injured… or worse, I do not know what Kili would do.  There is a vast difference between the journeys Kili has undertaken thus far and the perils Thorin Oakenshield and his company are about to walk into.  Kili has never known the pain of losing a loved one and I fear that accompanying Thorin on this quest will only make him well aware of how much losing someone close hurts.”

 

“Thorin was much younger that Kili when Erebor was lost to Smaug and when the dwarves marched to reclaim Moria,” Gandalf reminded Elrond and Elrond tore his gaze away from the three dwarves.

  
“I know... and that is part of what concerns me.  Thorin should never have had the weight of responsibility thrust upon him at such a young age.  I do not want Kili to have the same fate as his father.”

 

Gandalf shifted, understanding Elrond’s point. “I understand. We shall have to wait and see what happens, it seems.”

 

Elrond nodded and the pair split apart, going their own ways.

      

THE HOBBIT

 

In the dwarves’ room, Balin and Dwalin gathered the remainder of the company together the moment Thorin, Fili and Kíli were out of earshot.

 

“I think it is time for us to discuss this unexpected development,” Balin began. “None of us expected to find Kili here and his presence brings several key questions into existence.”

 

“Like what?” Bilbo asked.

 

“Like, will Thorin want to bring his only son and heir, even though he is not yet of age, on this quest?” Dwalin replied shortly.

 

“We all knew the risks going into this. It was all in the contract, which you all read and signed,” Balin added. “We’re all of age, or close enough to it.” Balin glanced at Ori, who was still three years away from officially coming of age. “And old and wise enough to make our own decisions.”

 

“And we must keep in mind,” Gloin put in, “that Thorin will not make a decision about this before consulting with us.  He knows that having a young one, one without experience in battle, increases the risk to the rest of us.”

 

“Not to mention we all agreed to one-thirteenth of the treasure. If Kili comes along, we will number fourteen,” Nori put in.

 

“Nori, it’s a mountain of treasure.  A thirteenth is not much different to a fourteenth. I don’t see why the lad shouldn’t come. It’s his kingdom we’re going after.  When Thorin dies, Kili will become king and the lad will never sit comfortably on the throne if he didn’t play some part in getting it back from Smaug,” Bofur put in. “Besides, it is only fifteen years between him and Ori and twenty between him and Fili. Why shouldn’t he have the chance?”

 

“He’s young, little more than a child.  Yes, he may know how to shoot a bow or swing a sword in the practice ring, but this quest is dangerous.  Do we want to be the ones who put another child in danger... risk another member of Thorin’s family going to Mahal’s halls at such a young age?” Dori argued, inching protectively closer to his youngest brother.

 

“Kili isn’t Frerin and you know it,” Dwalin growled.

 

“Although he looks a lot like him,” Gloin admitted. “When I first saw the lad, I thought I was seeing a ghost.”

 

“I think all of us that knew Frerin thought that the first time we saw Kili, since he grew up anyway,” Balin sighed. “But the truth is, Kili is not Frerin and Thorin is not Thror or Thrain.”

 

Dwalin flinched at Balin’s words, cutting as they were.  He vividly remembered Frerin pleading with Thror and Thrain to not try and retake the Misty Mountains, telling them there were other options, but neither of the older dwarves would listen and less than a day later, Frerin died on the battlefield in Thorin’s arms.  It had a lesson that Thorin had learned, to listen to others and consider other options, but it had been too late to save Frerin.  Bifur chose this moment to add to the conversation and the others listened, Bilbo with a blank look on his face, since he had no idea what Bifur was saying.

 

“Bifur’s right,” Bofur nodded when his cousin was finished. “The boy deserves to have the chance to fight for his birthright... and, despite his upbringing, he is a dwarf, a son of the line of Durin with all the stubbornness that entails. What’s to say he won’t try and follow us to Erebor?  In a group like ours, we offer safety in numbers but on his own in the wild, he wouldn’t stand a chance.”

 

“We should vote,” Gloin said. “We all have our own thoughts about this.  I, for one, do not want the lad with us. He has lived almost as sheltered life as Mr. Baggins here amongst the tree shaggers and there is a large difference between practice in the field and fending off an orc raid, as you all well know.”

 

“You are all forgetting something,” Dwalin put in. “Thorin.  He has just been reunited with the son he thought lost... Do you really think that Thorin is going to be happy to leave Kili behind?  Most of you were there when we found what was left of that cam, .when Thorin found Kili’s things, the sling that he was being carried in, his toys.  It damn near killed him to think that he’d lost Kili. If it wasn’t for Fili, I don’t think Thorin would still be alive.  Yes, we have a right to voice our opinions and have our say, but Thorin is King.”

 

“And you know Thorin best. What would he say?” Ori asked curiously.  Dwalin paused thoughtfully, looking over the rest of the group before he looked back at Ori.   

  

“I think that Thorin isn’t going to want to let Kili out of his sight.  He let go of Kili last time because we thought it would be safer for the lad... and look what happened.  We almost lost him.  Thorin won’t do the same thing again. He won’t risk Kili being put in danger without him being there to protect the lad... and after everything has happened, I don’t blame him.”


	11. Chapter 10

Thorin sat alone on the balcony of the room the dwarves were sharing, smoking his pipe and looking out at the moonlit sky, lost in his thoughts.   Thorin and his company would be leaving Rivendell at first light, and Thorin didn’t know how he felt about this.  Yes, he was looking forward to getting back on the road, and continuing on towards Erebor, but at the same time Thorin wished that he and Kili had spent more time together.  As it was Thorin had said nothing to Kíli about the younger dwarf joining the company, and Thorin wished that he had more time to judge whether or not Kili was ready for such a dangerous quest.  Having such a skilled archer with them would be undeniably handy, but Thorin knew that it wouldn’t be worth it if Kili wasn’t old enough to withstand the vigour’s of the journey. 

 

Having been young when Smaug had come, Thorin knew all about how hard it was to roam the countryside, constantly being on the move, was.  He actually had been better off than many...Gloin had been little more than a toddler really, and Nori had been an infant, carried away from the dragon fire in a young Dori’s trembling arms.  Even Thorin’s own siblings had struggled at times because of their age.  Dis had spent most of the first month on the road being carried by Thorin or Dwalin, or occasionally Frerin when the older two couldn’t help Dis along for some reason.

 

Kili wasn’t as young as any of them had been during those dark days, but Thorin still knew that the journey would be a trial, even for the fittest members of the company, and there was a part of him that wanted to believe that at least, here in Rivendell, Kili would be safe.

 

The problem was, the last time Thorin thought that Kili would be safest somewhere away from him, he’d gone over sixty years thinking that his son was dead, and the pain of losing Kili had left many scars on Thorin’s battered heart.  Even now, when Thorin knew the truth, and he knew that Kili was safe and whole, the scars still remained, now permanently etched to Thorin’s psyche.

 

Another sticking point, for Thorin, was the fact it wasn’t just him that would be affected, but the rest of the company as well.  He was the leader, but Thorin knew that on a matter as serious as this, he needed to consult with the others.  Thorin had learned long ago that it was important to listen to his people, and take what they said into account.  It had been one of Thror’s fallings, and Thorin would not let himself become victim to his grandfather’s flaws.

 

“Thorin” a familiar voice grumbled from behind him, and Thorin turned to see Dwalin, Balin and Gloin standing in the doorway, Balin holding a small scroll of paper, and all of them looking very serious.   
  
“What is it?” Thorin asked, a little annoyed that the group had bothered his time for musing.  Time alone was hard to get on the road, so Thorin had been enjoying a moment of solitude.

 

“We...we’ve been doing some talking...at length, while you were off with the boys earlier, and we, that is, the entire company have come to a decision.  Balin offered Thorin the scroll, which he took, frowning in confusion, unrolling the scrap of parchment and casting his eyes over it.  It was written in the common tongue, and his eyes grew steadily wider as he read what the writing on the scroll said.

 

_We, the company of Thorin Oakenshield, being of sound mind and of free will, do hear by agree that the dwarf known as Kili of Rivindell, (also known as Kili, son of Thorin) should be offered a position within the company of Thorin Oakenshield on the condition that such a course of action is approved by Thorin Oakenshield, and on the condition that Kili of Rivendell, should have the chance to refuse the offer, and should he refuse, will not be judged for his choice._

_We also swear that should the dwarf known as Kili of Rivendell (Kili, son of Thorin) choose to join the company on this quest to reclaim the treasure and halls of Erebor from the dragon Smaug, then all previously signed contracts by us shall be amended to reflect that the individual profit we can expect to make will now be one fourteenth of total profit gained throughout the quest._

 

Below this were twelve signatures of the company, starting with Balin and Dwalin, and then Oin and Gloin, Bifur, Bilbo, Bofur, Bombur, Ori, Nori, and Dori, and then Fili, who Thorin knew must have signed his name while Thorin had been out on the balcony.

 

“What is this?” Thorin asked, looking beyond Dwalin, Balin and Gloin, to the rest of the company, who stood behind them, united.

 

“This is us giving you the chance to bring Kili along.  We discussed it for a long time, and we eventually all agreed that we would give you the option to make Kili the offer to come with us.  It’s his birthright to come with us, and, well, he is young, but he’s not as young as some.” Gloin told Thorin.

 

“He’s your son, Thorin...we’re leaving the decision up to you.  We’re fine with whatever choice you make.  Balin has prepared a contract for Kili if you make that choice, and if you choose not to let the lad come, well, it doesn’t matter.” Dwalin said, stepping forward and clapping Thorin on the shoulder, “we support you whatever you decide.  Kili is your son...Your blood, and it’s up to his father...it up to you, to ultimately decide.”

 

“We’re leaving at dawn, Thorin, you need to make a choice soon,” Balin reminded Thorin, who nodded, clutching the paper in his fingers.

 

“You have my thanks...this...it means a great deal to me.” Thorin said, addressing the company as a whole.

 

“We’ll leave you to your thoughts,” Balin said, and the group withdrew back into the room.  It wasn’t long before Bofur got out his pipe and began playing a tune, and loud, boisterous singing started up again.  Thorin looked back out over the valley, the sky now having fallen quite dark, the music and laughter washing over him.  He looked down at the slip of parchment, then back towards the east, towards the Misty Mountains and beyond.  In him mind, Thorin saw through the Misty Mountains, over the foothills on the other side, over the trees of Mirkwood and over the plains that stretched beyond that, to Erebor, standing tall, a single peak rising from the landscape.

 

Thorin let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding, looking at the parchment again, reading the carefully praised words.  Thorin smiled, recognizing Balin’s penmanship immediately.  Still, there was something missing.

 

Thorin strode into the room, past the rest of the company, to the writing desk, where the unsigned contract was sitting, as well as the quill and ink that Balin had been using.  Thorin hesitated before he picked up the quill and signed the parchment, adding his signature to the twelve already there.  He was, after all, a member of the company.  His signing of the slip of paper was, however, more than a simple formality.  It was him accepting the choice of the other dwarves, and agreeing to the terms set out on the parchment.

 

Thorin turned to the contract, noting that Balin had left it open so Thorin could sign it as well.  Thorin exhaled, closing his eyes.

 

“Keeva forgive me,” he whispered to himself, before he signed his name where it needed to go.  He lay down the quill and picked up the contract, before turning and letting himself out of the room, before his resolve failed him.   

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Kili startled when he heard knocking on his bedroom door, almost cutting himself on his sword, which he was sharpening with a whetstone.  He set the blade down carefully, rising to his feet from where he was sitting on the floor.  It was late, and he was not expecting any guests.  The dwarves had told him that they were retiring to the rooms for the night after dinner...which had been roasted venison.  The dwarves had all had large helpings, and even the hobbit had eaten a great deal, for one so small.

 

It had been an enjoyable meal, accompanied by much music and laughter.  The older dwarves had been, obviously, not impressed, but the younger dwarves (and by that Kili meant Bofur, Bombur, Nori, Ori and Fili) had obviously enjoyed themselves enough to, at Kili’s encouragement, sing a dwarven song or two, although it was in the common tongue.  Then the dwarves had turned the table of Kili, so he and Estel had got up together and sung a song that Kili had learned in his childhood from Elrohir and Elladan, and then, in turn, taught Estel.  Even Bilbo Baggins had been persuaded to join in the festivities, singing a song of the Shire, much to everyone’s enjoyment.

 

The festivities had continued on after the company of Thorin Oakenshield had returned to their room, and Kili was looking forward to the comfort of his own bed, only had had been far to awake and cheerful after dinner to go straight to bed, so he had set to sharpening his sword, a part of him hoping the Thorin would invite Kili to train with him the next day.  Even in Imaldris, tales of the skill of the mighty Thorin Oakenshileld were told, and Kili longed to train alongside his father and the rest of his father’s companions.

 

Kili opened the door, and was surprised to see Thorin there, alone, in the corridor outside.

 

“Hello,” Kili greeted softly, remembering the Estel’s room was next to his own, and at this late hour the boy would certainly be asleep.

 

“May I come in?” Thorin asked, matching his son’s soft tone. 

 

Kili nodded, “yes, I ask that we remain quiet, however, Estel is asleep in the next room, and he is a light sleeper.” 

 

Thorin nodded and stepped over the threshold into his son’s room, once again looking around and admiring how tastefully the elves and Kili had tried to emulate dwarven style when decorating the room.  It reminded Thorin of the rooms at Erebor that had been set aside for the elves to use when delegations arrived in Erebor.  It pleased Thorin, in a way, that Elrond had allowed Kili to still have some connection to his race, instead of raising Kili to be an elf.

 

“Can I help you with anything?” Kili asked, drawing Thorin from his musings.

 

“Yes...I’ll get to the point...The company have been discussing the...situation, and they have come to an agreement...one which I have decided to take advantage of.   They decided that, should I desire to, I can offer you the chance to come along with us.”  With that Thorin withdrew the contract and offered it to Kili, who had dropped into a chair.

 

“Go...go with you...to Erebor?” Kili asked faintly.  Thorin nodded, sitting down beside his son.

 

“Yes...but Kili...this is not a choice to make lightly.  The road is long and hard, and will be highly dangerous.  There is no guarantee that you will return to this valley, or that you will survive.  You have a home here...one that you undoubtedly love, and I accept that.  You have a family here too...and as much as I dislike saying this, it is obvious how much they all care about you.”

 

Kili swallowed and nodded, fixing his big brown eyes on the contract at his hand so that he could avoid Thorin’s penetrating gaze.

 

“We...we plan on leaving at first light.  If you decide to join us, meet us at the bridge between the two warriors at the entrance to Rivendell at first light.” Thorin instructed.  Kili nodded, keeping his head lowered, but Thorin reached out and lifted Kili’s chin so he could look at his son’s face, and Kili blinked, annoyed that his father could see the tears shining in his eyes. 

 

“Oh, Kili,” Thorin sighed resting his hands on Kili’s shoulders and leaning forward so his forehead was touching Kili’s.

 

“Regardless of what choice you make, Kili, it won’t change the way I feel about you, nor will it change how other’s will respect you and see you.  You are brave and strong...You are a true son of Durin, a true heir of Erebor, and nobody can ever tell you differently.  I love you, Kili...I have from the moment your dear mother told me she was carrying my child.  I never stopped loving you for a moment, even though we all thought you were gone, and now that we have been reunited with you I have never loved you more.  I will always love you, Kili, no matter what happens.  I will always be proud of you...my son, my heir.”

 

Kili sniffed, and Thorin pulled him into a tight embrace, kissing the top of Kili’s head tenderly as Kili’s shoulders shook.

 

“If you do not hear from me or my company by the time next spring comes around, it means the worst has happened.  Go to my halls in the Blue Mountains...the southern stretch of the mountain range, where you were born, and seek out my sister, the Lady Dis.  She will support you and help you with whatever you need.”

 

Kili nodded against Thorin’s chest, and Thorin pulled away a little, wiping his thumbs over Kili’s cheeks to wipe away the tears.

 

“I must go, the night draws late, and I have much to do before our departure.  If...if I do not see you at first light I hope to see you once again once Erebor has been reclaimed by Durin’s people.”

 

Thorin rose to his feet and walked towards the door.  He looked over his shoulder, and found that Kili had dropped his gaze again,, hiding behind his long dark hair.  Thorin opened the door and let himself out of the room, but before e could close the door again he was tacked from behind.

 

“Farewell, father,” Kili said, hugging Thorin tightly, before letting got.  Thorin kissed the top of Kili’s head in a blessing, before he stepped away and headed back the way he came, knowing without a doubt that it was going to be rather difficult to find his way back to his room.

 

Still, on his way to Kili’s room he only lost his way three times.  Thorin was actually surprised it hadn’t been more.

 

Back in his room, Kili closed the door again and sighed sliding down the wall until he sat on the floor.  He looked around the room, eyeing his bed wistfully.

 

There would be no sleep for him that night, Kili knew...he had a decision to make.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Kili sat awake for a long time that night, his thoughts and feelings as turbulent as a stormy sea as he pondered the choice Thorin had presented to him.  He sat in front of his fireplace, although it was not a cool night, watching as the embers flickered, his face illuminated by the orange glow of the slowly dying fire.  Beside him sat the contract, which Kili had read from end to end.  It was a very well worded document, and there was a part of him that wanted to show it to Elrond, for if it wasn’t written in a different hand, Kili would have thought it was written by Erestor or Lord Elrond himself. 

 

First Kili had decided that he would accompany Thorin and the others to Erebor, the excitement of the possibility of such an adventure getting to him, but then a little voice in Kili’s head, which sounded suspiciously like Erestor, reminded him of the dangers of the journey.  Then Kili had read the contract and questioned how wise it would be for him to go, so he had settled on staying, only to second guess himself and decide that he would go.  Back and forward he went, unable to decide what he would do. 

 

Finally, when the crescent moon was high in the sky, Kili made up his mind and, finally convinced that he was making the right decision, crawled up onto his bed, collapsing down onto it and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep, his mind at ease knowing that it had made the right choice.


	12. Chapter 11

As Thorin and Gandalf planned, as first light broke over the valley of Imaldris, Thorin and his company were already packed and ready to leave.  Their supplies had been restocked, thanks to Elrond’s pantries and Nori’s skills as a thief, and their bodies well rested and recovered from the trials of the last few days before they arrived in Rivendell between the trolls and the Wargs.

 

Still, there were certain members of the company who did not look as keen to get back on the road as others.  The most noticeable of these was, naturally, Bilbo, who would have preferred to a few more days exploring the home of Lord Elrond and possibly visiting the elf lord’s famous library.  Bilbo couldn’t believe that he had met so many of the same elves that he had trekked across the Shire looking for in his youth.

 

Also among those who seemed hesitant to leave was Thorin, who despite his dislike of elves, rather liked the home of Elrond, even if it was only because his son had found a home there... a home where he was well treated, loved by many, and would be protected from harm.  Thorin knew that it was highly possible that he would never see Kíli again.  The journey ahead promised to be a long and dangerous one and Thorin knew that it was possible that he would die trying to reclaim his home, be it on the road or by Smaug’s fire or by some other cause.  Thorin only prayed that some of his company survived, to tell Kíli and Dís what had happened, and to convey their condolences.  Thorin knew more than anyone how much the pain of not knowing hurt, and he would never wish that sort of pain on anyone.

 

Thorin sighed as he slid Orcrist into its sheath at his back before he picked up his pack and turned, looking around at the rest of the company.  They were all busily preparing for the journey, stuffing last minute items into their packs and checking weapons.  Fíli and Nori were tucking their hidden knives away, Balin was checking a map that Nori had picked up somewhere, Dwalin was inspecting Ori’s pack to make sure  it wasn’t to heavy (even though Dori had done it three times already), Gloin was keeping watch, Bofur and Bilbo were re-packing Bilbo’s pack together, and Bombur and Bifur were packing away the things used for their light breakfast, Dori was having a last cup of tea, watching Dwalin and Ori discuss how heavy Ori’s bag should be, while Oin did last checks on his bottles of ointments and salves and on their supply of bandages. 

 

There was nothing for Thorin to do at that precise moment and Thorin knew that everyone would be ready when the time came to leave, so he turned, looking at the embers of the fire, all but gone out. 

 

“You alright, Thorin?” Dwalin asked roughly from behind Thorin, obviously having finished with Ori.  Thorin shrugged and Dwalin put his hand on Thorin’s shoulder.

 

“Don’t worry about the boy, Thorin. He’ll be okay, regardless of what choice he makes.”

 

“It’s been less than a day, Dwalin.  This time yesterday, I thought Kíli was dead.... but now he is alive and may be joining the quest.  If we were not so pressed for time, I would have allowed another few days here, to give the company more time to rest and to give Kíli more time to get to know us.  I would have told him about Erebor and what has befallen our family since.   I feel as though I haven’t given him all the information he needs to make his choice and I know, should he decide not to come, I will feel as though I am abandoning him.”

 

Dwalin shook his head and pulled Thorin around to face him.

 

“Thorin, you did as much as you could for Kili.  Should we succeed in claiming Erebor, you will be able to spend as much time as you want telling him about the history of the dwarves.  You aren’t abandoning him, Thorin. You’re giving him the chance to make his own choice... which was the right thing to do.  He’s young but he’s old enough to make up his own mind about this.  You just need to trust him.”

 

Thorin sighed and nodded. “I know,” he conceded, glancing towards the balcony and observing the light hint of sunlight that shone through the window.

 

“Time to go,” he told Dwalin, who nodded.  The company got their packs on and gathered their respective weapons.  Thorin went and stood beside Gloin at the door.

 

“All clear?” Thorin asked and Gloin nodded.

 

“All is well and quiet.”

 

“Good.  Let’s go.” Thorin nodded and Balin and Bofur took the lead, as they were the ones with the best sense of direction.  It wouldn’t do to get lost in the elven house while they were trying to escape.  Thorin knew from his attempt at finding Kili’s room the previous night that there was no way that he would be able to lead the group out of the labyrinth that was the house of Lord Elrond without getting lost... numerous times.

 

It was not long before they arrived back at the main, wide walkway that led into Rivendell, and out as well, and Balin and Bofur led the company does the stone stairs that led down to the entrance courtyard... and their pre-arranged  meeting place with Kíli.

 

The group reached the courtyard and stopped, all of them looking around, some hopefully, others curiously, and Thorin tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest when he didn’t immediately spot Kíli waiting for them.  The dwarves didn’t have time to wait, Thorin was sure their absence would be noticed before long.  He glanced over his shoulder, hoping to see Kíli sprinting down the stairs, chasing after them, much like Bilbo had, but the steps were deserted.

 

“KILI!” Fíli abruptly yelled and Thorin spun around, following his nephew’s line of sight, his heart skipping a beat.

 

Peering over one of the shoulders of one of the warrior statues flanking the bridge was Kíli, who was smiling.  He swung himself sideways, landing on the bridge between the two statues, before he picked up his bag from where he had put it down, behind the same statue he had been climbing.

 

“One contract, signed as requested,” Kíli told them, offering Balin the contract.  Balin checked the signature and Thorin felt his heart skip in his chest when, looking over Balin’s shoulder, he noticed that Kíli had signed it ‘Kíli of Rivendell’, and then beneath it he had added ‘son of Thorin’.

 

“The residents of Rivendell are early risers. We should get going,” Kíli advised and Thorin nodded, clapping Kíli on the shoulder, before he began walking across the bridge, the rest of the company falling into line.  Kíli turned to follow them when a young voice broke the clear, morning silence

 

“KILI, WAIT!”

 

Thorin and the company spun around at the voice and Kíli groaned and rolled his eyes, looking back at the young boy standing on the stairs.

 

“Estel... what are you doing here?” Kíli asked as the human ran down the stairs and across the courtyard, throwing himself affectionately into Kili’s arms.

 

“I... I had to say goodbye... I didn’t want you to go without saying goodbye.”

 

“Estel, don’t worry. I’ll be back, you’ll see.  Everything’s going to be okay.”

 

“But what if something happens?” Estel asked, his bottom lip quivering as he struggled to hold back his tears.

 

“Estel, you know I can’t promise you that nothing will happen... because it might, but I promise that I will do everything I can to make sure nothing happens, alright?  You know me, I’m a fighter. I’m not going to let some dragon get me.  I promise that I will fight as long as I can to make sure nothing happens to me.”

 

“We’ll hold you to that, you know, little brother,” another voice chimed in and Kíli blanched at the sight of Elladan and Elrohir entering the courtyard from the side, having obviously been concealed by the bushes.

 

“Elladan, Elrohir... please tell me Ada didn’t send you,” Kíli groaned.  Elladan quietly laughed.

 

“No, Ada is preoccupied.  Mithrandir is playing his part in the ruse well.  Estel was the one that alerted us.  He’s not as quiet and stealthy as he likes to think,” Elrohir replied, ruffling Estel’s hair affectionately  
  
“Hey, I am so quiet and stealthy. You just have freaky hearing,” Estel argued back.

 

“They’re elves, Estel, get used to it... and if you do want to sneak out, the window is the best bet.”

 

“Great, now you’ve put the idea in his head,”  Elladan groaned, slapping his palm to his face.

 

“He’s hard enough to keep out of trouble now, but now he knows how to evade us even more.  We’ll be forever chasing after him,” Elrohir moaned, putting his hand in his face.

 

“I wasn’t that much older than him when I figured it out...comparatively speaking...Anyway, if you’re not going to stop me, why are you here?”

 

“First, to wave you off, and second, to make sure somebody,” Elrohir sent a pointed look at Estel, “doesn’t try and follow you.”

 

Kíli nodded, shooting a glance over his shoulder at the dwarves, who were shifting uncertainly.  Elladan stepped forward and straightened Kili’s pack, smiling fondly.

 

“It’s time for you to go.” The elf softly smiled before drawing Kíli into a tight hug. “Take care of yourself, little brother.”

 

Kíli nodded hugging his brother tightly.  It had suddenly dawned on him that he was leaving the only home he had ever known... that he was leaving the only family he had ever known behind.

 

“If you ever need us, send word,” Elrohir added as his twin stepped back, engulfing Kíli in a hug. 

 

Kíli nodded. “I will,” he solemnly promised. 

 

Elrohir clapped him on the shoulder supportively. “Remember to shoot straight, little brother.”

 

“Promise you’ll tell us when it’s over?” Estel asked and Kíli nodded.

 

“Of course. Actually, I have a job for you, Estel, an important one.” Kíli reached up to one of the statues, retrieving the leather bound satchel that he had slung off the statue when he first got to the courtyard before Thorin and the others arrived.  He handed the bag to Estel, who opened it, taking in the soft, blue blanket tucked inside.

 

“I was going to leave it for you to find but since you’re here, I’ll just give it to you.  Can you look after it for me, until Erebor’s safe and I come back?  I don’t want it to get lost or anything on the road.”

 

Estel nodded, clutching the bag close to his chest.  Kíli rested his hands on the boy’s shoulders and rested their foreheads together.

 

“You’re destined for great things, Estel... and don’t let anyone tell you anything differently, alright?”

 

Estel nodded, hugging Kíli tight for a moment, before letting go and stepping back between the two elves, holding the blanket in his arms.  Kíli stepped backwards, rejoining the rest of the company, keeping his head low to try and hide the tears that were rolling down his face, before he gave Thorin a subtle nod, who led the company across the bridge before turning right and heading up the path.

 

“Er... Thorin,” Balin offered.

 

“What?” Thorin grumbled.

 

“The road east is the left path, not the right path.” Balin told him gently.  Thorin paused.

 

“I knew that,”  he told his oldest friend before turning around and heading the other way, the company of thirteen dwarves and a hobbit trailing along after him.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Gandalf fought the urge to roll his eyes at Saruman as the white wizard rambled about the negative health effects of mushroom consumption.  For all he liked to offer up a uncaring facade, Saruman was in fact a bigger mother hen than Dori when it came to his ‘brothers’ and Gandalf had heard his lectures about living a healthy lifestyle many times.

 

“The dwarves... they’re leaving.” Galadriel’s voice slipped into Gandalf’s mind and he turned a little in his seat to look at her.  It was, after all, bad manners not to look at the person you were talking to... even if you weren’t actually making a noise.

 

“Yes,” Gandalf replied shortly. 

 

Galadriel’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You knew?”

 

Gandalf gave the Lady of the Golden Woods a sheepish look and Galadriel gave him a warm smile, her eyes glinting with amusement.  Both wizard and elf alike were hard pressed to not laugh at that moment.  It wasn’t long after that that Lindir entered the courtyard the White Council had set up as their own.

 

“My Lord Elrond... the dwarves... they’re gone,” he reported in a fearful voice.  Elrond, Galadriel, and Gandalf all exchanged a look, Elrond’s questioning while Gandalf and Galadriel struggled to hide their amusement.  Saruman scowled at the news and Gandalf reflected on his thoughts that Thorin would never let the quest to reclaim Erebor be jeopardized by the opinions of a wizard he had never met.

 

“There... there is more, Lord Elrond,” Lindir hesitantly continued and all four members of the council looked curiously at the elf.

 

“Go on,” Elrond gently and kindly prompted.

 

“When... when we noticed that the dwarves were not in their room, we wondered if they had moved during the night to Kili’s room. It is more dwarven in design and since the revelations of yesterday were still fresh in their mind, we thought they might try and spend some time together... but Kili’s room was empty as well.”

 

Elrond blanched and Gandalf sighed.  He had wondered, and privately hoped, that this would happen.  An archer of Kili’s capabilities would certainly come in handy... even if it was just for hunting purposes.  An archer would have been very handy as they fled the wargs as the approached the hidden pass. 

 

“My Lord, Kíli is gone as well,” Lindir finished, stating what everyone in the room already knew.

 


	13. Chapter 12

Kili stopped walking and looked back at Rivendell over his shoulder, willing his eyes to remain clear of tears.  He knew, farther up the line, that Bilbo had stopped and was looking back as well.  A few of the dwarves walked past Kili, shooting him sympathetic looks, a few of the elder ones patting him on the shoulder.  Kili let out a sigh as he admired the house he had always called home from above.  He had never really appreciated how beautiful it was until now.  With a pang, Kili realized how much he loved the valley and those within it.  His Ada, his three brothers, his sister in the woods of Lorien, Lindir and Lord Glorfindel... even grumpy old Lord Erestor, and Kili swallowed as a lump formed in his throat.

 

Up the line, Kili could hear Thorin chastising Bilbo for dawdling and he blinked, knowing that he should get going as well. He didn’t want to anger... or disappoint his father only on the second day of knowing him.

 

A hand closed on Kili’s shoulder and he startled, quickly wiping his face, because it was undeniable that there had been moisture there... and the sky was clear of clouds that Kili could blame.

 

“It’s alright, lad,” Dwalin said, keeping his large hand on the younger dwarf’s shoulder. “It’s only me. We’re not going to let anything get you. Come on...  they’re bound to know that we’re gone by now.”

 

‘Which means they’ll know that I am gone too’, Kíli mentally added, turning his back on Rivendell and continuing up the steep slope beside Dwalin.

 

“I know how hard it is, to leave home,” Dwalin said, “We all do. Even Mr. Baggins does. It’s alright to miss home. It’s why we’re doing this, to get our home back.  Erebor is more than just the treasure. It’s home... for Thorin, and Balin and Oin and Gloin and Nori, though they doesn’t remember it. They were just babes when the dragon came, as well as Dori and me... and it will become home for you and Fili and the others. You’ll see.  It’s alright lad,” Dwalin told Kili again, keeping a supportive arm around Kili’s shoulders.  Kili nodded, although, as the path turned around the steep hill, he gave the only home he had ever known one last look before it vanished from sight.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Elrond forced himself to remain calm as he strode through the halls of his home as he approached Kili’s room.  The halls were busy with elves on their way to breakfast but they all sensed Elrond’s mood and gave him plenty of room.

 

As Kili’s room came into sight, Elrond frowned, taking in the open door.  He swallowed before walking into Kili’s room, taking in the room that he had decorated with Kili and his dwarven heritage in mind.  Embers glowed in the grate and Elrond sighed, running his hand gracefully along the back of the soft couch that Kili had taken his naps on as a small child and even now enjoyed lounging around on.  Kili’s desk stood against the wall, messy as it always was.  Elrond shook his head, approaching the desk with the intention of straightening it up a little, but he froze when he saw the folded parchment sitting on the wooden surface, the word Ada written on it in Kili’s scrawl.  It was only when Elrond reached out to pick up the parchment that he realized his hand was shaking.  Elrond paused, taking a calming breath, before he picked up the parchment, unfolding it carefully to reveal a page of Kili’s handwriting.  Elrond turned and walked back to Kili’s couch, where he sat, his robes falling elegantly about him, and began to read.

 

“Dearest Ada,” Kili had written.

 

“As you may already know or may have guessed, I have left the valley of Imaldris and accompanied Thorin Oakenshield and his company, many of whom are my kin, on their journey east. 

 

I will not ask that you not worry, for I know that you will.  You worry whenever Elladan and Elrohir go hunting orcs, and you worry about Arwen all the time.  You worry when Estel falls over in the gardens and you worry about me whenever you don’t know what it is that I’m doing.  It is in your nature and it is one of the reasons you have been such a wonderful father to all five of us.  However, I hope you are reassured by the knowledge that I am in the company of some of the greatest dwarf warriors to ever walk Middle Earth and that I will be well protected.

 

If things go badly, I want to thank you for everything you have ever done for me.  I know that you were not obligated to help me the day you found me, for I know of the way you feel of dwarves and their stubborn ways.  I know that you have always loved me and had my best interests at heart.  I know that you have always looked after me, ever since the day you first found me in those woods, and for that I will be eternally grateful. 

 

I know that you will feel as though you understand why I made this choice to go with Thorin, my father, and the others but I still feel as though I must explain my decision.  Firstly, it is because I felt that this may well be the only chance I have to get to know my real family.  Something may happen, which will mean that I won’t get the chance to spend time with Thorin, Fili, and the others after the quest.  Secondly, I am Thorin’s heir.  If the quest is successful, then Thorin will become the King Under the Mountain, a title that I may eventually (hopefully in many years because I am not ready to be king) inherit.  I don’t think I could for fill this role adequately and have the support of the dwarves of Erebor, if I did not have some role in retaking the mountain from Smaug.  Thirdly, I know this is closely connected to my first point, but this seems to me to be a good opportunity for me to learn about what it is to be a dwarf, to learn about their culture and their history, to learn about my heritage, and to understand what it means to be the son of the rightful King of Erebor.

 

Please know that the dwarves in no way pressured me into this decision.  While it is true that Thorin did approach me last night with an invitation to join them on their quest, he made it clear that, should I choose not to go, he and the other dwarves would accept and respect my choice.    

 

If I have the opportunity, I will send word to you of our progress and to update you on how things are going. You probably realize this already, but Estel is going to be lonely with me gone, so could you please look after him and tell him that I still love him and I always will, no matter what?  I will leave my blanket near the bridge, so could you make sure Estel finds it before it gets dark?  Tell him that as soon as I can, I will be back for it and that he needs to take care of it until then.  Keep the twins out of trouble while I’m gone and make sure they don’t chase after me.  As much as I respect them as warriors and love them as family, I feel that this quest is something that I should do on my own with my dwarf family. 

 

I love you so much, Ada, and I look forward to seeing you again and telling you about all the things I have seen.  Thank you so much for everything, Ada.

 

Farewell,

 

Kili.”

 

Elrond sat on Kili’s couch, staring at the letter, his hand trembling and a few tears sliding down his smooth cheeks.  A slight noise at the door startled him and he looked up, seeing Estel, flanked by Elrohir and Elladan.  Estel had Kili’s blanket in his arms and tears sliding down his cheeks and he raced across the room and into Elrond’s arms, sobbing.  Elrond set the letter aside and wrapped his arms around his youngest foster son.

 

“We saw them leave and Kili said goodbye to us,” Elrohir softly said as he followed Estel into the room at a more sedate pace.

 

“He looked happy. Nervous, but happy,” Elladan solemnly added.  Elrond nodded his understanding.

 

“He’s not a child anymore.  He is not an adult but, at the same time, he is no child.  He hasn’t been for a while,” Elrond told his eldest son’s thoughtfully. “It was only a matter of time before he went off like this.  I am glad that he is with Thorin Oakenshield and his company.  All of those dwarves are loyal to Thorin and his family.  Kili will be well protected... as safe as anyone could be on a quest to reclaim Erebor from Smaug.”

 

“Do you think Kili will have lots of stories to tell if he comes back?” Estel asked in a soft voice, knowing even at the tender age of ten that Kili might not be coming back from the quest.

 

“Knowing Kili, he will have so many stories to tell he could write a book,” Elrond said reassuringly to Estel, forcing a smile he didn’t feel onto his face.  Kili was right. He was worried... very worried about Kili, but Estel, and less noticeably the twins, needed him to be there for them and Elrond knew that he had to put them first.

 

He just hoped that Kili survived to tell Estel all the stories that the young boy wanted to hear.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Kili found himself thinking of the great tales that he had been told as he grew up, stories of great deeds and quests and gruesome battles and heroes.  He wondered if there would ever be stories told about this quest. Would it become a great story of how a group of thirteen dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard defeated the odds and a dragon to reclaim their home, or would the story of the quest be forgotten, told only to remind others of how foolish it was to go against a dragon, a lament for fifteen lost lives? 

 

A glance ahead told Kíli that the line was spacing itself out as they walked up the steep path away from Rivindell.  Kili and Dwalin were bringing up the rear, with Balin up front and the rest spread out in between.  There was a part of Kili that was grateful for this.  Even though it was Kili’s nature to want to be up front, leading the way (and it would make sense, since Kili guessed that he knew the hills surrounding Rivendell the best), Kili was content to be at the back, where he was away from the curious looks everyone else kept sending him.  Behind Kili walked Dwalin and there was something reassuring about having the larger dwarf there.  Even though Kili barely knew any of the dwarves, he had seen Thorin and Dwalin interacting enough to know that Dwalin was loyal to Thorin and his family.  Thorin trusted Dwalin and Kili decided that for the moment that was good enough for him.  Thorin was, of course, known for being someone who did not trust others easily. 

 

It had been Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of the Greenwood, visiting Elrohir and Elladan, who had told Kili stories about the great dwarf prince, Thorin Oakenshield.  Legolas and Thranduil had known Thorin since he had been born and Legolas had many stories about the dwarf to tell, even of events following the fall of Erebor, for Legolas and his father had tried to keep up to date with what was happening with their former neighbors.  Kili smiled to himself as recalled those evenings spent sitting curled beside Legolas as the elf told him stories about the dwarves of Erebor.  Even though at the time Kíli hadn’t known that he was Thorin’s son, he had loved those stories the best.

 

“Are you okay, Kíli?” a soft voice asked and Kili blinked out of his thoughts, taking in Fili and the other young dwarven member of the company, Ori.  They had both obviously fallen back in the line, because Kili had seen Fili up near the front with Gloin.

 

“Yes, I’m fine.”

 

“Can we walk with you for a bit?” Ori asked. 

 

Kili nodded, deciding a bit of company a little closer to his age would be a nice change, compared to either being with a ten-year-old boy, or elves that were centuries older than he was.

 

“If you like,” he shrugged.

 

“You said that you’ve crossed the mountains before. What’s it like?” Fili asked, trying to sound mature.

 

“Crossing the mountains is always difficult.  You have to look for falling rocks from above and the path crumbling on you from below, as well as looking for orcs and other dangers.  The first time I crossed the mountains I slipped and almost fell. Thankfully, Glorfindel caught me before I fell.  Another time, when we tried to cross the mountains, it had been heavily snowing. I had to be carried because the snow went over my head in some places. I was a little shorter then, of course, but it was still very deep.”

 

Ori’s eyes were wide with awe and amazement and Fili exchanged a quick glance with Dwalin at the danger Kili had been in.  While Kili wasn’t a helpless infant anymore, Fili knew that certain members of the company, including Thorin, Dwalin, Oin, Gloin, Balin and himself, would always be overprotective towards Kili.  Just hearing about the danger Kili had been in sent tendrils of fear down Fili’s spine.

 

“What is it like this time of the year?  Will there be any snow?” Ori asked.

 

Kili shook his head. “Not on the pass, only on the highest peaks.  You timed your journey very well as far as crossing the mountain is concerned.  Of course, just because there is no snow doesn’t mean that it’s safe. And it still gets very cold at nighttime and summer storms are quite frequent.  I used to watch the lightning from my room.”

 

“What did you do every day?  Estel mentioned you guys playing hiding and seeking games and you obviously train a lot but... other than that.”

 

Kili smiled. “What Estel and I do, it’s not just games. It’s training in its own way... tracking, hunting, trying to get into your enemies head and pre-empt their next move.  Because Estel is so young, we make it fun but it’s actually very serious.  Either one of our lives could depend on the skills we’ve built through those games.  When I was young, both Elladan and Elrohir used to play them with me.  Of course, I don’t spend all my time with Estel, though.  He’s a great kid, don’t get me wrong... brave as they come and loyal, and when he’s bigger he’ll be a good fighter, but now... if you give him the chance, he’ll talk your ear off. Elladan and Elrohir would say the same about me, though.  Anyway, sometimes I train with the twins or Glorfindel or one of the others will train with me or we’ll head out and hunt orcs in the wild.  Sometimes I stay inside and read and attend lessons with Erestor or Ada... Lord Elrond, or I study out in the gardens.  I used to spend a lot of the time in the forge too. I loved watching the Lord Elrond’s blacksmith work.”

 

“Did you do a lot of blacksmith work, lad?” Dwalin asked.

 

“Some,” Kili nodded. “I’ve made quite a few arrowheads and I’ve done some work on weaponry.  I made Lord Elrond a knife last year for Yule. It wasn’t too bad.  I’m not very good and it’s certainly not of dwarven standard... or design,” he admitted, eyeing the two swords Fili wore. “I learned by imitating elves, so everything I make looks very elven.”

 

“I’m sure, once we reclaim Erebor, you’ll get to practice more,” Dwalin told Kili.  Kili tilted his head to the side.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes. Just because we’re princes doesn’t mean that we’re not required to know how to make fine-looking weaponry and jewelery,” Fili told Kili. “It’s expected of us to be fine craftsman, as well as being fighters and leaders.”

 

“Did you plan on becoming a blacksmith in Rivendell, once you were of age?” Ori asked.  Kili shook his head.

 

“No. As I said, I learned the basics but I’m not very skilled and the blacksmith that works in Rivendell is over three thousand years old... and he didn’t really like me.  No, I was going to become a ranger of the North.  Next summer, I was going to go with them for a few months, learning the lifestyle, training with non-elves, getting to know more of the North, getting some more experience fighting against orcs and other dark creatures and learning about the people that live in the North, the people of Bree, the ways of the Hobbits, visiting Ered Luin... sort of like an apprenticeship, if you like.”

 

Fili looked confused. “I thought only men could be rangers.”

 

“Elladan and Elrohir spend so much time with them that they’re honorary rangers.  One time, ten summers ago, Elladan and Elrohir took me with them on a hunting trip, and we met with the Rangers.  The chief of the rangers was there, and when we came across some orcs, he saw me shooting, and he offered me a position in the rangers.  Glorfindel had to tell him that there was no way I was joining properly until I was at least 70 years old.  The ranger...he died two years later in an orc raid, my brothers and I were there...it was horrible” Kili explained, “Seeing what happened to him...It’s one of the reasons I do so much training with weaponry and tracking, because I know that they are skills that a very valuable to a ranger.  They are the difference between life and death.”

 

The other younger dwarves nodded in acceptance and fell quiet, all concentrating on climbing the steep path, while behind them Dwalin contemplated the conversation he had overheard.

 

Dwalin knew the Rangers of the North well, having often had dealings with them.  Many of the rangers carried swords that had been crafted by Thorin and Dwalin and they respected the dwarves far more than most other men.  In return, Thorin and Dwalin had a high amount of respect for the rangers, both in their values and lifestyle and their skill as warriors.  The rangers were known to be the elite, the very best fighters of the Dunedain clan.  The fact that Kili had been offered a place amongst them was unusual, given that Kili was an outsider, but it spoke volumes of how impressed the leader of the rangers must have been with the young dwarf.  Dwalin looked up the path, smiling to himself as he watched Kili walk along the path ahead of him, pride in the younger dwarf washing over him.

 

Hearing that Kili knew the harsh realities of battle made Dwalin feel conflicting emotions.  On one hand, he was glad that Kili knew the risks of war and battle.  He had seen death and destruction, and he was not naive to knowing that no-one was guaranteed to survive the quest.  On the other hand, Dwalin, (and Thorin and Balin as well) wished that Kili had grown up without knowing the grief, sorrow and loss that had plagued the lives of his kinsman.  Thorin, Balin and Dwalin, and even Fili had known death and grief from painfully young ages, and Kili was supposed to have grown up without being touched by death.  It was one of the things that Dwalin had consoled himself with when he had learnt that his best friend’s son had been raised, of all people, by elves.

 

Still, in his heart, the tall dwarf knew that Kili was destined for great things... and Dwalin swore at that moment that he would do all he could to help Kili achieve his destiny.


	14. Chapter 13

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A DESCRIPTION OF HUNTING FOR FOOD AND DOES CONTAIN SOME DESCRIPTION OF GORE.  IF OFFENDED BY THIS, PLEASE SKIP SECOND SECTION. YOU WON’T MISS MUCH IN THE WAY OF PLOT.**

 

Gandalf wrapped his scarf around his neck before he picked up his staff and his bag, slinging the latter over his shoulder before he picked up his hat and popped it onto his head.  He turned and walked out of the room that was reserved as being his without a backwards glance.  In his head, Gandalf knew that Thorin would not want to wait in the mountains and the dwarves already had a few hours of a head start

 

Gandalf closed the door to his room and turned to leave before he stopped, spotting Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindell, Erestor and Lindir all approaching.  Gandalf couldn’t see Estel, so he guessed the boy was off playing somewhere else with one of the other elves that called the valley home.

 

“Come to see an old wizard off?” Gandalf asked cheerfully as the elves drew near.  All the elves except for Elrond stopped, leaving the elf lord to step close to Gandalf.

 

“You’ll look after him, won’t you? Protect him?”

 

“Of course, as much as I can.” Gandalf nodded, not needing to question who it was that Elrond was referring to.  The way Elrond worried about the welfare of his children, both biological and adopted, was well known by all who considered the elf lord a friend.

 

“Make sure he eats and sleeps and doesn’t take too many risks.  He can be foolish at times and he often risks himself when he’s fighting in order to protect others,” Elrond continued.

 

“I understand, I will do all I can to ensure he does not put himself in undue danger.” Gandalf nodded again, putting a hand on Elrond’s shoulder.

 

“I know that you plan on leaving them before they reach the Greenwood but I ask that until then you will do all you can to protect Kili from being hurt.”

 

“I promise,” Gandalf told his friend solemnly, “on my powers and all I hold dear, that I will protect Kili and his kin from harm.”

 

Elrond nodded in acceptance of Gandalf’s promise before stepping aside.  The other elves parted, leaving a walkway for the wizard, who continued on.

 

“Look after him, Mithrandir,” Elrohir said as Gandalf passed.

“We want him back in one piece,” Elladan added.

 

Gandalf nodded at both of the twins before he followed in Thorin and his company’s footsteps and left the home of Elrond, his heart full of thoughts about the task Elrond had given him.  Keeping one of the line of Durin safe and out of trouble... Gandalf was going to be kept very busy.

 

It would, after all, be a very difficult task.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

 Kili was ready for the long march to be over when Thorin called a halt.  He wasn’t exhausted... a lifetime of trying to keep up with tall and graceful elves had built his stamina up well but Kili was at the same time looking forward to resting.  His last night in Rivendell had hardly been peaceful and Kili was starting to feel the effects of not sleeping very much the night before.

 

Still, the day was not yet done and Kili listened intently while Thorin issued orders, instructing Oin and Gloin to get the fire going, Dwalin, Dori, Bilbo and Nori to keep watch, Bombur and Bifur to start preparing their evening meal, and Kili himself to take Bofur and Fili and go and see if he could find some meat for them.

 

Eager to do his father’s bidding, Kili took off his pack and headed towards the trees, followed by Fili and Bofur.  Kili had hunted in these woods many times with his brothers, so he immediately began heading downhill through the thick trees.

 

“Do you know a place where there is food or something?” Bofur asked.  Kili nodded.

 

“There is a creek with water not far from here and the woods around the creek are teeming with all sorts of prey. It will not be difficult to find something if we keep quiet.”

 

Fili and Bofur exchanged grins and kept quiet, watching how stealthy Kili was. He was almost as quiet as Bilbo as he crept through the undergrowth.  Suddenly, Kili stopped, lifting his hand in the universal sign for stop.  Kili and Bofur both froze, crouching down behind a fallen log.  Kili slowly climbed up on top of the log, drawing an arrow from his quiver and notching it, drawing back.  Fili shifted slightly, trying to see what it was his cousin was aiming at, but Kili released the arrow before Fili got a good look.  In quick succession, Kili fired four more arrows, adjusting his stance and aim between each shot in mere seconds.  It was an impressive display for Bofur, who hadn’t seen Kili shooting before. 

 

“Wow,” Bofur muttered softly as Kili jumped down on the other side of the log, gesturing for the others to follow him once again.  Fili and Bofur climbed over the fallen tree and stopped again as they watched Kili creep stealthily across the clearing towards the rabbit that lay on the ground, unmoving, with one of Kili’s arrows sticking out of its side.   There were four other rabbits in the clearing, all of them dead to Kili’s arrows.  And Fili and Bofur quickly got to work skinning them and preparing them for Bombur.  Kili reclaimed his arrows, walking to the nearby stream to make sure the arrowheads were clean, something which made Fili send him a confused look.

 

“It doesn’t really matter,” Kíli explained, seeing the confusion on Fili’s face, “not with well made arrows, but it is a good practice to get in.  If blood dries onto the arrowhead, it could affect the balance and weight of the arrow.  If you’re using the arrow for hunting purposes, you could accidently contaminate the animal you’ve killed, making everyone sick, and if you don’t clean the arrowheads, then, well, blood does tend to get a bit smelly after awhile, especially in summer.”

 

Fili nodded.  It made sense when Kili explained it like that.

 

“Come on, lads, let’s head back to camp,” Bofur suggested, looking up at the darkening sky.  Fili and Kili nodded and they headed off with the meat back towards camp.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Thorin lay on his side, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, just as it always did when he was traveling.  Around him, the other dwarves slept, the sound of their snoring cutting through the night air, drowning out the crackling of the wood in their campfire as it died, burning down to glowing embers.  Thorin, however, had no interest in sleeping.  He couldn’t believe the day he had just had... and that Kili, for the first time in sixty two years, was sleeping beside him, curled on his side, his fingers wrapped around his blankets with only the top of his head and his fingertips visible.

 

Still, Thorin knew that he wasn’t the only one awake.  Balin and Dwalin were keeping watch. Thorin could see them from where he lay as they sat near the fire, watching the trees carefully, fully alert for any sign of danger.  He also suspected that Bilbo was awake as well. The hobbit had taken awhile to get used to sleeping rough on the road and the few days of having soft bedding at Rivendell had probably undone what little progress the hobbit had made in getting used to sleeping on the ground.

 

A small smile crossed Thorin’s face as Kili gave a quiet snore beside him and shifted in his sleep.  The young dwarf had been obviously tired by the end of the day’s march and he had felt guilty for sending him of hunting but the shy smile that Kili had carried upon returning had been enough to ease Thorin’s guilt as Bofur and Fili raved about Kili’s skill as a hunter and a woodsman.  The company had lapped up their words and everyone had praised Kili’s skill as they ate the thick, filling rabbit stew Bombur had prepared with Kili’s catch (while a furiously blushing Kili had modestly tried to deflect the praise Bombur’s way).

 

Shortly after the meal had been finished and the pots and bowls cleaned, Kili had fallen asleep curled in his blankets, oblivious to the dwarves around him, who had all been talking or smoking. 

 

Thorin honestly couldn’t blame Kili for falling asleep so quickly.  The older dwarf couldn’t even begin to imagine how draining the day had been for his young son, from the sleepless night the previous night as Kili had been forced to make a life-changing decision and then the emotionally draining separation from his so-called brothers and the subsequent departure from the only home Kili had ever known, followed by a grueling trek up into the foothills of the Misty Mountains.                 

 

Despite knowing all this, there was a part of Thorin that was pleased that Kili had been relaxed enough to fall asleep so quickly, given that he was surrounded by strangers.  It was a reflection on Kili’s upbringing, Thorin knew.  Kili had grown up surrounded by elves, protected and shielded from any danger.  He had little experience of life on the road and when he had been in the wild, he had been accompanied by elves with hundreds and, in many cases, thousands of years in battle experience, who would have protected Kili from any real danger.  Elves also were blessed with superior senses to any of the other races, so it was unlikely that a camp of theirs would be caught in a surprise attack.  Kili had never been betrayed ...unlike Thorin and the other dwarves.  He had lived a peaceful life and he was trustful, having never had his trust broken by anyone.  Kili still possessed the youthful naive innocence that Thorin had lost when Smaug had taken Erebor and Fili had lost when his father had been killed and Thorin was pleased to see it, although he feared that, by the time that their journey was over, Kili’s innocence would all but gone. 

 

Thorin was not so pessimistic about their chances as some, such as Balin, but he was realistic knowing that things could go badly and that there was a chance that the company would be destroyed or face heavy losses.  Thorin prayed to Mahal that Kili would not be among the fallen, that the youngest of the dwarves would survive and be free to live out his life in peace. Fili too was in Thorin thoughts for a similar reason, and Ori as well.  They were so young and had so many years to look forward to. 

 

In his heart, Thorin wondered if he had made the right choice to invite Kíli to come along.  Deep down, Thorin had known that Kili would never have turned down the opportunity to join the quest. He was, after all, of Durin’s line... a direct descendant of kings.  Bravery, courage, strength, and stubbornness all ran through his veins thickly, just as it did with Thorin and the rest of the family, and those traits, combined with Kili’s youthful brashness, would have left the young dwarf unable to turn down the chance. 

 

Still, Kili was painfully young. It was apparent as he had laid sleeping, curled in his blankets, beside Thorin as the other dwarves stayed up.  Thorin couldn’t believe how young his son had looked, his cheeks bare of any hair, his face peaceful and relaxed, free from any lines of worry.            

 

Even as Thorin thought of his son’s youth, Kili stirred in his sleep and rolled over so he was facing Thorin, his unbound hair falling across his face, moving slightly with each of Kili’s even and steady breaths.  Thorin watched, wondering if Kili was going to wake up, but soon Kili was quietly snoring again, obviously sound asleep.  Slowly and hesitantly, Thorin reached out and carefully brushed his fingers through Kili’s hair, pushing it back off his face, careful not to hit any knots or snags.  It took a few strokes to get back, with each lock of hair being pushing back until Kili’s face was unobstructed. 

 

Thorin froze as he ran his fingers carefully through his son’s hair again, his fingers having brushed against Kili’s cheek.  Kili, however, remained still and sound asleep.  Thorin almost laughed and settled for smirking to himself as he left Kili’s hair alone.  Frerin had been a heavy sleeper as well.  Thorin and Dwalin had once drawn all over Frerin’s face and arms with charcoal while the younger prince had been sleeping and Frerin had never stirred from his slumber  

 

Obviously Kili got more than his looks and his skill with a bow from his uncle.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Dawn broke the next morning and the dwarves rose with the sun, having a quick breakfast of dried fruit and meat that they had liberated from Elrond’s stores before they continued up the path.  The plan was to get as far into the mountains as they could before darkness made the path too perilous and then wait for Gandalf before continuing on in daylight. 

 

Kili knew that it would be another hard day of walking. The Redhorn Pass was not an easy path to take, with steep and narrow paths that wound and twisted their way through the mountains.  In some places, the path had crumbled, eroded away by rain and snow and wind and the passing of time, leaving gaping cracks and crevices that were highly dangerous.  He shuddered as he remembered the first time he had used the path.  During a particularly narrow stretch of the path, the rocks beneath his feet had crumbled and Kili would have fallen to his death if Glorfindel had not grabbed him by his pack and pulled him to safety.

 

In his head, Kili prayed to the Valar that there would be no such occurrences during this crossing of the mountains.  He had heard horror stories about the mountain passes from his twin brothers and Kili had a healthy respect for the mountains.  It was not only that, however.  He barely knew his companions and while he trusted them, he did not know them.  He knew the majority, if not all, of them would have grown up underground, used to navigating narrow paths and ledges but Kili had little experience of life in the mountains, with only his few trips through the Misty Mountains on the way to visit Arwen his only experience.

 

One of Kili’s biggest fears was making a fool of himself.  While he didn’t mind being on the receiving end of a joke or prank, Kili felt as though he needed to impress the other dwarves... especially Thorin, but the other dwarves as well.  He was, after all, supposed to be the son of their king.     

 

Kili startled when a gentle hand on his shoulder drew him from his musing, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Fili looking at him with a concerned look on his face.  Kili felt his cheeks redden and busied himself with his bed roll, attaching it to his bag and keeping his gaze lowered, avoiding the concerned look in his cousin’s eyes.

 

“Kee... are you alright?” Fili asked in a hushed tone.  Kili sighed and nodded.

 

“We will have a long day ahead,” Kili told him. “The mountains are a hard and unforgiving road with many dangers.  When you live in the shadow of the mountains, you know what dangers they hold and yet you still expect to be surprised by some unknown evil that dwell there.  I have been taught to both fear and respect the Misty Mountains but I am sure that you know far more about mountains than I do.”

 

“Not like you just described.  Ered Luin... it’s peaceful.  Occasionally, there is an orc raid but that is a rare occurrence.  The most dangerous things are rock falls in the mines and sometimes we have trouble with bandits... men who think we have hoards of gold and try to take it by force, but time and Thorin’s reputation have meant that even then we are seldom bothered.  Ered Luin is not at all like the Misty Mountains,” Fili admitted as he finished packing his bag.  Kili noticed how Fili kept his most valuable possessions tucked against his skin, in pockets sown into the inside of his clothing.  Kili had done the same, having been told long ago that it was more likely orcs would steal your pack than they were to steal the clothes off your back.

 

“Walk with me,” Fili asked as Thorin signalled for the company to continue on up the mountain. “We will face the mountain together and we will watch each other’s backs for whatever surprises it has in store for us.

 

Kili nodded and took his place in the line behind Fili, his bow slung on his back with his quiver.  His hand dropped to rest at the hilt of his sword and Kili left it there, ready to draw the weapon at a moment’s notice.

 


	15. Chapter 14

Kili blinked water out of his face focusing his vision on Fili’s back as they struggled through the rain and the wind and the treacherous path beneath them He heard Bilbo yelp behind him, and whipped around in time to see Dwalin and Bofur settling the hobbit on solid ground once again. 

Breathing deeply, Kíli tried to calm his racing heart, but lightening flashed in the sky, and Kíli found himself instinctively walking a touch closer to Fíli. Thunder rumbled overhead, and Kíli tugged his hood up more securely so it was protecting more of his face, even though he was so wet that he doubted it was doing much good.

The thick, dark clouds that had been brewing over the mountains for the last few days had finally broken, resulting in a fierce thunderstorm, complete with thunder, lightning, a howling wind, and driving rain that, despite the fact it was summer, was bitterly cold. The entire company had been completely soaked within minutes of the rain starting, despite their best efforts, and the cloaks they all wore, their hoods up to protect their heads from the wind and the rain. Still, water was dripping down Kili’s nose, and the narrow path that the company had been following was now even more traitorous, thanks to the rain making the rock slippery and dangerous 

Kili scrambled forward a bit more as the long line of dwarves (and a hobbit) continued up the mountainside, deciding that looking up at the mountain peaks was a bad idea. The rocky peaks looked like monsters looming over them, and Elladan and Elorhir had told him stories about stone giants...stories that had given Kíli nightmares for months afterwards...even though admittedly he had been a lot younger then back then. Still, the mountains, combined with the storm, were quickly eating away at Kili’s courage, and not for the first time Kíli wondered if he had made a mistake in coming on the quest. He had crossed the mountains more times than some of the dwarves, and they did not appear to be as frightened as he felt.

“We must find shelter,” he dimly heard someone...possibly Thorin... yell over the storm, and Kíli glanced up, catching a glimpse of the dwarf that was his father, his features illuminated by a bolt of lightning crashing against the mountainside a good distance from where the dwarves were standing. It was only because of the lightning that Kíli caught sight of the dark shape in the night sky that was hurtling towards the mountain they were inching along.

“Look out!” Dwalin hollered, also having seen the projectile Kíli had spotted. Kíli watched with wide eyes as the object, which he quickly realised was a large grey boulder crumbled when it crashed into the mountain side, some twenty feet over their heads. Fíli reached back and pulled Kíli close to him, both of them pressing themselves as close to the mountain as possible to avoid the deluge of rubble that cascaded down on them.

“Take cover” Thorin called as the rest of the company threw themselves against the rocky face. Kíli could hear the rest of the company letting out cries of alarm as the boulders and rock dropped dangerously close to them, breaking inches off the already narrow track.

“This is no thunder storm,” the older, white haired dwarf, Balin, said once the rock fall was over, “it’s a thunder battle...look” he pointed, and Kili’s gaze followed the outstretched finger, his heart pounding wildly in his chest when he saw the...hulking figure made of stone literally break a piece of a mountain clean off and hurl it towards them.

“Well, bless me...the legends are true. Giants...Stone Giants!” Bofur yelled, and Kíli felt terror grip him as he stared, wide eyed in fear up as the two titans clashed overhead, rocks showering down on them. A boulder almost took out Ori and Bilbo, and if it hadn’t been for Dwalin they would have been knocked off the mountain. 

Nothing Elrohir or Elladan could ever have told him could have prepared him for this. Kíli had heard of Stone Giants before, he had been told stories about them by Glorfindel when he had been very young, perched on the elf’s knee as he told stories about his long life. Kíli had heard enough stories about Balrogs to give him nightmares for life. The fact that the Balrog rumoured to dwell in the mines of Moria had been dubbed Durin’s bane terrified him, especially now that he knew he was a descendent of Durin himself.

Kíli jumped, startled, when the ground beneath his feet cracked and shifted, and he immediately stepped to one side, away from Fíli.

‘Kili,” Fíli called, “Kili...Grab my hand” 

Fíli stretched out his arm out to Kíli, but Kíli could only watch in horror as the crack widened quickly, knowing that he would never be able to jump the fissure that separated him from his cousin and his father. The ground beneath them rocked and shook, and Kili realised that they were actually standing on one of the giants.

A large hand gripped Kili’s shoulder, and he whipped his face around, looking at Dwalin, who pulled him away from the edge, keeping a tight grip on Kili’s arm.

“I’ve got ya, lad.” Dwalin told Kili, who swallowed nervously as the Stone Giant they were riding on stumbled under the force of a hit, sending rocks showering down on them yet again. Dwalin used his axe handle to deflect one of the large rocks away from Kili’s head. Kili huddled closer to the larger dwarf, not proud enough to try and hide his fear anymore.

The company had been cut in half, with Thorin, Fíli, Balin, Oin, Gloin, Bifur and Dori on one side of the fissure that separated them, on one of the Stone Giant’s knees, Kíli guessed, while Kíli, Dwalin, Bilbo, Ori, Bombur, Bofur and Nori were on the other knee.

The giant lurched, and Dwalin pulled Kíli close as Kíli stumbled on the shifting, uneven surface, both dwarves glancing up fearfully for any falling debris, hoping to try and figure out what was going to happen next.

On Dwalin’s other side Ori let out a yelp, and Dwalin slid his axe into its holder on his back before pulling the younger dwarf close so that Dwalin could better protect him, just like he was protecting Kíli. Ori huddled close, and Kíli instinctively shifted to give him a bit more space against Dwalin.

Beyond Ori, Bofur had pulled Bilbo against the rock face behind them, gripping onto him tightly, to ensure that the hobbit didn’t fall from the rocky ledge they all stood on as it became increasingly narrow.

On the other side of the gap, Thorin had taken advantage of the stone giant’s movements, by leading the half of the company that had been leading onto a ledge that was thicker and wasn’t moving. Kíli could only them when lightning illuminated the sky, the thick driving rain severely restricting the distance any of them could see.

The Stone giant stepped, and Kíli lurched unsteadily a little as the dwarves were jolted by the movement, passing the other half of the company as they looked on in horror. Kili’s attention, was drawn to the Stone Giant who had been the one throwing the boulders at the stone giant the dwarves were currently trapped on, seeming to want to obliterate into dust. A third Stone Giant loomed in the darkness, closing in on the two warring parties. 

“Look out,” Kíli yelled over the storm as another boulder was hurled out of the darkness, colliding with the head of the more aggressive Stone Giant, sending it clean off and causing it to tumble down the mountainside, narrowly avoiding the other half of Thorin’s company. Kíli and the dwarves he was trapped with, however, had other concerns. The Stone Giant they were trapped on was stumbling, and the cliff face loomed in front of them. Kíli realised that they were going to be smashed into it a fraction before the others, but by the time he inhaled to yell out a warning, the others had realised the danger. A few let out screams, and Dwalin pulled Kíli and Ori impossibly close to him, wrapping his arms around them, as if to protect them from the impact...not that Kíli could imagine it doing much good.

“Jump,” Dwalin bellowed in Kili’s ear mere moments before they would have made impact, and Kili jumped forwards, hoping that it would be enough

Thorin watched on in horror as half his company were smashed into the mountainside, the rocky edge they had been trapped on crumbling away as the Stone Giant staggered back and staggered off down the valley. Thorin, however, wasn’t paying attention, his mind fixed on the dwarves (and one hobbit burglar) that in all likelihood had just been crushed into the cliff face. 

“No!” Thorin screamed unable to hold back his fear at loosing so many of his company in one moment. He raced forward, going as fast as the narrow path would allow, trying to get to the spot where he had last seen the other half of the company...his mind filled with thoughts of the dwarves that had so loyally decided to help him reclaim his homeland.

Bombur and Bofur, always so cheerful, who had no familial connection to Erebor, but still offered to come...Ori, so young and innocent, the one who Thorin had already decided would be put in charge of restoring Erebor’s library to it’s former glory, should the quest be successful...Nori, who Dwalin had suggested for a position in the company due to his prior experience at going beneath the law, and whose loyalty to his brother’s was unquestionable. Their hobbit burglar too was slowly becoming adjusted to life on the road, and although their journey had not been easy, he had never once complained and regretted his choice aloud...although Thorin knew that the hobbit often thought about his little hobbit hole in the safety of the Shire. Then there was Dwalin...Thorin’s best friend since infancy. They had grown up together...trained together, fought together, and grieved together. Thorin couldn’t imagine his life without Dwalin at his side, watching his back.

And then there was Kíli...It had only been a few days since Thorin had learned that Kili was still alive, and now Thorin was faced with the prospect of losing his son...again. It made him regret his decision to offer Kíli a place in the company. He should have left Kíli where he was safe and out of harm’s way. Now Kíli was possibly dead less than a week after Thorin re-entered his life. 

“Kíli” Thorin screamed, his voice catching painfully as he tried to call over the thunder rain. He darted around a rocky edge that jutted out onto the path, before he skidded to a stop.

There they all were. Dwalin was unfolding himself from around Ori and Kili, who both looked pale and shaken, but alive. Bofur, Bombur and Nori were there too, Nori and Bofur helping to pull Bombur back to his feet. Thorin approached Dwalin and Kíli, dropping to his knees and pulling his son into a relieved hug.

“It’s alright, they’re alive,” he heard Gloin call to the rest of the company as one by one; they all got onto the wide ledge.

“Wait...where’s Bilbo...where’s the hobbit?” Bofur cried out in alarm

Thorin looked around, still keeping his arms around Kíli, but he couldn’t see Bilbo anywhere.

“There,” Bofur yelled, pointing over the cliff. Thorin, Dwalin, Ori and Kíli all got up as Bofur and Nori lunged for Bilbo, who was clinging to the mountainside, his feet scrambling for a foothold on the smooth rock. Bilbo slipped, dropping further down the cliff. Thorin knew there was no way the hobbit would let go in order to reach for one of the dwarves...Thorin doubted Bilbo would be able to reach Bofur and Nori’s outstretched hands even if he did let go of the narrow ledge he was tightly gripping.

Thorin approached the cliff face and, gripping the edge tightly with one hand, let himself slide off until he hung not far from Bilbo. He reached the hobbit, grabbing him by the jacket and pushed him up, until Bofur and Nori grabbed onto the hobbit, pulling him up onto the ledge. Thorin gave Bilbo’s flailing legs another push from behind, before he went to climbing back up the cliff. 

Thorin put his full weigh on a narrow ledge to boost himself up and pushed himself upwards, only for the ledge to crumble beneath his weight, Thorin grabbed with his hands as he began to drop, the fingers of his right hand catching on a narrow groove worn into the mountainside,. Dwalin and Kíli had leapt forward, and Dwalin reached down, ready to grab Thorin’s left hand as Kili looked on anxiously. Thorin reached up and grabbed Dwalin’s hand, trusting his closest friend to help him. Dwalin heaved, and Thorin felt himself being pulled up the mountain. He felt smaller hands grabbing onto his shoulder, pulling him upwards, and knew that Kíli was helping pull him back up as well. 

Once Thorin was back up on the ledge, the company were silent for a moment. Kíli was keeping his eyes downcast, although from where he knelt right beside Kíli Thorin could tell his son was struggling to remain calm, so he casually put his arm around Kili’s shoulder and carefully pulled him in close. Kíli, accepting the gesture, buried his face in the fur of Thorin’s cloak. It wasn’t the princeliest way to act, but none of the dwarves said anything. Fíli stumbled over to them and joined the embrace, trying to reassure himself that, despite the harrowing ordeal, both his uncle and his cousin were unharmed. 

“I thought we lost our burglar,” Dwalin offered in relief after a few minutes of silence. Bilbo, who was huddled between Bofur and Balin, still trying to regain his breath, cast his eyes over the group, looking at Thorin last. Thorin detangled himself from Fíli and Kíli, who clung to one another as Thorin got to his feet.

“He’s been lost ever since he left home,” Thorin growled, “he should never have come. He has no place amongst us.”

There was another hush over the company as Thorin’s words, as icy cold as the rain that still pelted down upon them, sunk in. Bilbo cast his eyes downward, but not before almost the entire company saw the hurt look upon his face at Thorin’s words. 

“Dwalin,” Thorin barked, examining an opening in the mountainside. Dwalin went to follow Thorin while the rest of the company slowly got up and got ready to follow their leader. Bilbo trailed to the rear of the group, staying beside Bofur and Balin, although he kept his eyes downcast, avoiding making eye contact with anyone. 

It turned out that Thorin had found a cave, and everyone clustered in the entrance of the cave while it was checked for any unsavoury occupants. Bilbo jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, glancing up to see Kíli looking at him with a pained look on his face.

“I’m sorry, Bilbo...for what was said to you...I...I’m glad that you’re here with us. I grew up being told about the race of hobbits and their skills of stealth...quiet enough to sneak past any elf...and any dwarf I daresay. Skills like that...they’re bound to come in handy at some point...right?” Kíli told him in a quiet voice that wouldn’t be overheard by the general noise the dwarves were making.

Bilbo gave Kíli a weak smile, “Nori’s the real burglar...not me. You don’t have to apologise, Kili...Thorin was only speaking the truth. You...you’re all dwarves...A hobbit has no place out on the wide open road...A hobbit’s place...my place...it’s in the Shire. You wonder why there are so few tales of hobbits travelling aboard, it’s because we generally don’t. The world outside the Shire is too big for hobbits to ever feel comfortable. Thorin was right...my coming was a mistake.”

Kíli frowned, but nodded respectfully, withdrawing so he was back at Fili’s side. Bilbo let out a sigh as Dwalin called that the cave appeared to be empty. Weary, Bilbo dropped his bag and set out his bed, as far from Thorin as possible, and settled down to sleep, hoping to put the entire day behind him.

Still, try as he might, Thorin’s word’s echoed in Bilbo’s head.

“I do not belong here,” he whispered to himself, and he knew the truth behind the words.


	16. Chapter 16

Thorin lay awake, thoughts racing through his head.  Around him the rest of the company slept, exhausted by the long march and the terrifying ordeal with the stone giants.  Even as he thought of it Thorin shifted a little closer to Kíli, lying as close as he could without actually touching the younger dwarf.  On Kíli’s other side Fíli was curled protectively around his cousin, as if he, like Thorin, was scared that Kíli would be lost to them once again...this time forever.

 

Like the rest of the company, Fíli and Kíli were both sound asleep, snoring softly as their chests lifted and fell with each even breathe they took.

 

It wasn’t just thoughts about Kíli’s unexpected brush with death that had Thorin lying wide awake when he should have been sleeping.  In his mind Thorin remembered his harsh words towards the hobbit, and he regretted what he had said, his fear for the lives of his son and the rest of his company making him lash out at the first target that had presented itself...which in this case had been Bilbo. 

 

Normally it was Dwalin or Balin that had to deal with Thorin when he lashed out, and both of the dwarves knew their king well enough to not take the things Thorin said to heart.  Bilbo, however, didn’t know Thorin well at all, and Thorin could only imagine the thoughts going through the hobbit’s head...especially given that most of the dwarves had not concealed the fact that they would have preferred Bilbo not join the company.  Mahal, Thorin was one of them, unable to see what use a hobbit such as Bilbo could be on a quest to reclaim a mountain of gold. 

 

Of course, the incident with the trolls had made Thorin realise that maybe Bilbo Baggins wasn’t as useless as he’d first through...and Thorin had seen Kíli and Bilbo walking beside one another, often talking in low voices, enough times since they’d left Rivendell to know that Kíli appreciated having the hobbit around...even if it was simply because It was somebody who wasn’t a dwarf (considering the fact that Kíli wasn’t used to being surrounded by dwarves.)

   

Still, Thorin hadn’t really meant to say what he had to the hobbit, and he regretted being so harsh on the company’s burglar.  It hadn’t been the hobbit’s fault that Thorin had almost lost half his company...including his son.  It hadn’t been Bilbo’s fault that they had encountered the stone giants either. 

       

The cave was quiet, aside from the snoring of the dwarves, and the occasion sound of Bofur humming some drinking song or other as he sat on watch, so Thorin wasn’t expecting it when he heard Bofur’s voice.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bofur whispered from the mouth of the cave.  Thorin lay still, listening and wondering what was happening...feeling slightly disappointed that one of his company had decided to leave.

 

“Back to Rivendell,” came the reply in the hobbit’s calm voice.  Thorin squirmed slightly, guilt filling him as he realised how much his words had affected the hobbit.  Thorin knew that Elrond had offered Bilbo a place in his home, and had been surprised when Bilbo packed his bags and left with the rest of the company, despite knowing that most of them didn’t approve of him being there...but Thorin’s harsh words had been the final straw for the hobbit, pushing him out.

 

“No...no...you can’t turn back now,” Bofur hissed softly. Thorin could hear the sound of Bofur’s heavy boots on the ground, as if he had walked a few paces before stopping.  Thorin heard the fear in Bofur’s voice...and he didn’t blame the other dwarf for that.  Bofur got along well with everybody, and Bilbo was no exception.  The cheerful miner was probably one of the dwarves that Bilbo got on with best (along with Balin, Kíli, and sometimes Bombur), and was by far the most welcoming (aside from the rather graphic description of incineration that caused the poor hobbit to pass out back at Bag End). 

 

Thorin knew how dangerous the road back to Rivendell would be.  The path would have changed during the Stone Giants’ battle, and paths through the mountain were treacherous at the best of times.  Once Bilbo got to the foothills of the mountains, assuming he made it so far, there were other dangers to contend with...bandits, orcs, wargs, trolls, wolves...the list was endless.  In a large group the dwarves had passed without being obstructed...but a solitary hobbit...that would be another story entirely.

 

“You’re part of the company...you’re one of us.” Bofur continued.  Thorin cringed at the other dwarf’s choice of words.

 

“I’m not though, am I?” Bilbo replied, “Thorin said I shouldn’t have come, and he was right.  I’m not a Took, I’m a Baggins, and I don’t know what I was thinking...I should never have run out my door.”

 

Thorin heard Bofur sigh, “You’re homesick...I understand” Bofur offered reassuringly.  Bilbo was surprisingly quick to reply.

 

“No you don’t, none of you do.  You’re dwarves...you’re used to...to this life...to living on the road, never settling in one place, never belonging anywhere.”  Bilbo whispered furiously, and Thorin flinched at the stinging words.  Maybe he wasn’t the only one who had issues saying things they didn’t mean.

 

Bilbo sighed apologetically, “I’m sorry...I didn’t...” the hobbit broke off, and Thorin studied the ground.  At least the hobbit could apologise right away when he’d said something hurtful.  Thorin had never quite got the grasp of that, needing a day or two to cool off before apologising, or at least doing something for the person he had lost his temper at.

 

“No...You’re right,” Bofur admitted begrudgingly, “we don’t belong anywhere”

 

There was a lengthy pause, during which Thorin imagined Bilbo and Bofur exchanging awkward glances, neither dwarf nor hobbit knowing what to say. 

 

Eventually, Bofur spoke again, “I wish you all the luck in the world... I really do,” there was a muffled thudding sound, as if Bofur was patting Bilbo’s shoulder, before a few moments of silence, which was again broken by Bofur

 

“What’s that?”

 

Thorin snapped to full alertness when he heard the sound of Bilbo partially drawing his letter opener from its sheath, and the cave was filled with a misty blue glow.  Beneath them, the ground groaned, and Thorin, sat bolt upright.

 

“Wake up,” he ordered, “wake up!”

 

Around him the company woke up, even as a crack formed running along the centre of the cave, sand tricking through the ever widening gap.  Thorin realised what was going to happen a moment before it did, lunging for Kíli and wrapping his arms around his son protectively.  On Kíli’s other side Fíli did the same, grabbing onto his cousin, refusing to be separated from Kíli again, so soon after the incident with the Stone Giants.

 

The ground beneath the company split and dropped away, opening like a door beneath them, and sending the entire company dropping down into the darkness below.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Kíli groaned and coughed as he hit the platform, the heavy weight of one of the other dwarves pressing down on his back, but he didn’t linger long on his discomfort as he looked up from where he lay and saw the hoard of goblins approaching them.  His breath caught in his throat and he let out a cry of alarm as one of the goblins grabbed him and pulled him roughly upright, while another goblin grabbed his sword and yanked it from its sheath.  He reached for his bow, but it, along with his quiver of arrows, had been sitting with his pack, which he couldn’t see.  It had been out of his reach when he’d slept, and he chided himself for his mistake.  If he’d been with his Ada or the twins he would never hear the end of it  

 

The dwarves around Kíli made out shouts of protest as they were all dragged to their feet and pulled and pushed along the wooden walkway, from rocky outcrop to rocky outcrop, with wooden bridges spanning the deep abyss beneath them.  Kíli went along with the rest of the crowd, although he found himself, looking at the thousands of goblins who surrounded them, his mind very aware of how his Ada’s beloved Lady Celebrian had been captured and tortured, many years ago in the Misty Mountains.  Would the same thing happen to them? 

 

Kíli startled when he felt a hand on his arm, and spun around, only to find himself face to face with Fíli.

 

“Stay close to me,” Fili ordered, and Kíli nodded in agreement.  Sticking beside his cousin seemed like a good option as they were hustled along by the goblins.  At one point Thorin joined the pair, and he stuck close to them as a frightful noise that Kíli belatedly realised was music began to feel the cavern, accompanied by someone singing..   

 

 _“Clap, snap, the black crack_  
Grip, grab, pinch, and nab  
Batter and beat  
Make ‘em stammer and squeak!  
Pound pound, far underground  
Down, down, down in Goblin Town  
  
With a swish and smack  
And a whip and a crack  
Everybody talks when they’re on my rack  
Pound pound, far underground  
Down, down, down in Goblin Town  
  
Hammer and tongs, get out your knockers and gongs  
You won't last long on the end of my prongs  
Clash, crash, crush and smash  
Bang, break, shiver and shake  
  
You can yammer and yelp  
But there ain't no help  
Pound pound, far underground  
Down, down, down in Goblin Town”

 

Kíli gazed with wide eyes at the creature they had been brought to, towering high above them all.  Kíli was certain that the Goblin King before them was taller than even the tallest of the elves back in Rivendell, and far uglier than any creature the he’d ever come across in his life.

 

The Goblin King leaned forward on his throne, chuckling and looking very proud of himself as he leaned on his staff, “Catchy, isn't it? It's one of my own, personal compositions.” He proudly boasted, although it was unclear whether he was addressing the goblins who had brought him the company of dwarves, or the dwarves themselves.

 

Apparently Balin thought he was addressing the dwarrows, because he opened his mouth to speak.  

  
“That's not a song...It's an abomination.” The usually calm and polite dwarf shouted from where he stood behind Kíli, much to Kili’s surprise.  Around them the other dwarves shouted and jeered in agreement with their fellow company member, although Kíli couldn’t bring himself to make a noise, despite agreeing with the older dwarf completely (the ‘music’ had been a far cry from what he had grown up hearing in Rivendell).  He wondered instead if the Goblin King before them all was at all like the foul creatures who had captured the beloved wife of his Ada, Lady Celebrian.  Kíli had only ever been told little parts of what ordeals she had gone through at the hands of the goblins, and the idea of being near to one himself had sent terror causing through his body.

 

The Goblin King snorted and gestured at the cavern around them, “Abominations, disfigurations, mutilations, and repulsions... That's all you're going to find down here.”

 

Goblins surged forwards depositing the dwarfs’ weapons before their leader with a crash and the ringing of metal.  Kili’s sword, bow and quiver were among the weapons in the heap, and the Goblin King’s eyes narrowed as he eyed the pile suspiciously.

 

“Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? _Assassins_?!” He questions, his voice rising in pitch and volume dangerously as he become angered.

 

“Dwarves, your Malevolence.” One of the Goblins, obviously some kind of leader, stepped forward.

 

“Dwarves?”

 

The goblin captain nodded, “We found them on the front porch,” he explained.

 

The Goblin King gestured angrily, “Well, don't just stand there, search them! Every crack, every crevice!” he ordered his followers.  Immediately the goblins swept over them again, grabbing at the dwarves and beginning to pat down their clothing, searching for any concealed weapons.  Kíli glanced over his shoulder, where Thorin was standing, but couldn’t catch his father’s eye.  Thorin was glaring up at the goblin king, pointed ignoring the goblins that were searching him, only reacting just slightly when Oin’s hearing trumpet was roughly taken from him and stepped on by one of the goblins.

 

Kíli looked back towards the Goblin King as a sack of objects that looked strangely familiar to him as belonging in Rivendell was emptied on top of the weapons pile. 

 

The Goblin Captain picked up one of the candelabras and examined it curiously, “It is my belief, your great protuberance, that they are in league with Elves!” he exclaimed, passing the candelabra up to the Goblin King who took it, examining the bottom closely.

 

"Made in Rivendell,” the Goblin read, “Bah! Second Age, couldn't give it away,” he tossed it aside, and Kíli could hear it clanging as it hit things on its descent.  A few of the dwarves glances suspiciously at Nori, who had a guilty look on his face.

 

“Just a couple of keepsakes,” the dwarf protested innocently, although Kíli wasn’t sure how many of the dwarves believed the alleged thief.

 

“What are you doing in these parts?” the Goblin King questioned.  Kíli felt Fili and Dwalin pulling him back safely behind most of the other dwarves, while Dori held Thorin back from moving forwards.  Instead Oin casually walked forwards.

 

“Don't worry, lads. I'll handle this.”

 

“No tricks! I want the truth! Warts and all,” The Goblin King hammered his staff into the platform for emphasis.  Kíli glanced at the ground, wondering fleetingly how strong the platform they were all standing on was.

 

Oin gestured at his ears, “You're going to have to speak up. Your boys have flattened my trumpet.”

 

The Goblin King stepped forward angrily, leaning against his staff, “I'll flatten more than your trumpet!” he threatened

 

Bofur took this as a chance to step forward, up beside Oin, “If it's more information you want, I'm the one you should speak to,” he calmly told the Goblin King, who turned towards him, his eyes still filled with rage. 

 

Bofur continued, “We were on the road. Well, it's not so much of a road as path. Actually, it's not even that come to think of it- it's more like a track. Anyway, the point is we were on this road, like a path, like a track, and then we weren't. Which is a problem, because we were supposed to be in Dunland last Tuesday.”

 

Dori stepped up beside Bofur as he spoke, “Yes, visiting distant relations,” he added.

 

“Some inbreds on me mother's side,” Bofur nodded in agreement.

Unsurprisingly the Goblin King wasn’t convinced by Bofur’s rambling tale, “SHUT UP” the Goblin King roared **, “** If they will not talk, we'll make them _squawk!_ Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone-Breaker!’ The goblin cast his eyes over the group, and Kíli felt his heart skip a beat in his chest as the Goblin’s eyes fixed on him, “start with the youngest,” the Goblin sneered, and a few of the other goblins cackled in amusement and delight.

 

“Wait,” Thorin’s voice echoed slightly in the chamber and the Goblin King tuned towards him as Thorin stepped forward, standing between Kíli and the mass of wart covered flesh.

The Goblin King’s eyes widened in surprise as he recognized Thorin, “Well, well, well,” he chortled, “look who it is. Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór! King Under the Mountain.”

 

The Goblin bowed mockingly, before he hesitated, “Oh! But I'm forgetting, you don't _have_ a mountain, and you're not a king. Which makes you... nobody, really.” The Goblin King smirked, as if he’d just made a funny joke.  A few of the goblins around the group chuckled, but no one else made a sound.

 

Leaned forward, close to Thorin, the Goblin King lowered his voice, “I know someone who will pay a pretty price for your head. Just a head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak. An old enemy of yours. A Pale Orc astride a white warg.”

 

Kíli watched Thorin, but if the older dwarf was intimidated by the Goblin towering over him, he gave no indication of it, “Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago.”

 

The Goblin King tilted his head to the side, a smirk on his face, “So you think his defiling days are done, do you? He chuckled lowly, before he rose to his full height and turned to his scribe, “Send word to the Pale Orc,” he ordered, “Tell him I have found his prize.”

 

Kíli watched as the scribe pulled on a leaver and was sent cackling through the darkness in its little basket, while the goblins closed ranks around the company of dwarves.  Kíli looked around at the other dwarves, trying to hide his fear, but he was certain that they were not being deceived by his act.  He was relieved, however, to spot some of the other dwarves, Ori and Bombur being among them, looking more than a little worried about their situation.

 

“It’s ok, Kíli, it’s going to be alright.  Thorin is going to get us out of this…he’s not going to let any of us get hurt,” Fili whispered in Kíli’s ear.  Kíli turned to face his cousin, who gave him a grim, but reassuring smile.  Kíli tried to return the smile, but the smile fell when he glimpsed the torture machine being slowly pushed up the path towards them.  Fili turned so he could follow Kíli’s line of sight, and his grip around Kíli’s wrist tightened when he too saw the instruments of torture.

  

From behind them the Goblin King began so sing once again.

 

_“Bones will be shattered,_

_Necks will be wrung!_

_You'll be beaten and battered,_

_From racks you'll be hung!_

_You will die down here and never be found,_

_Down in the deep of Goblin Town!”_

 

As the Goblin King sang, his captain was inspecting the dwarves pile of weaponry and Kíli watched as he picked up Thorin’s sword, Orcrist, unable to stop himself from smirking as the Goblin screeched in fear as he beheld the sword, tossing it to the side, as if the sword would stab him of its own accord, even though the goblin was the only one touching it. 

 

Perhaps even more humorous was the great Goblin kings reaction as he scrambled madly up onto his thrown, as if a baby would climb up into its mother’s lap.

 

“I know that sword!” the Goblin King bellowed, “It is the Goblin Cleaver! The Biter! The blade that sliced a thousand necks! Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all! Cut off his head!”

 

Whips and ropes lashed over the dwarves as the goblins surged forwards, screaming and chattering angrily as they threw themselves upon the dwarves.  Kíli was pulled away from Fili, and thrown to the ground by three large goblins.  Kíli punched and kicked, struggling madly, but the Goblins threw their weight upon his limbs, pinning him down.  A quick glance around told Kíli that many of the other dwarves were in the same position as he was…even Thorin was pinned down, and Kíli bit his lip as he saw how the Goblin Captain had his knife drawn and levelled at Thorin’s throat. 

 

“No!” Kíli cried out, his struggles intensifying as he tried to get up and help his newly found father, before a punch across his face reminded him of his own perilous situation.

 

His cheek burning from the force of the punch, Kíli blinked, and suddenly a blinding white light filled the cavern, the force of it throwing the goblins pinning Kíli down off.  Kíli screwed his eyes shut until he felt those around him slowly moving.  The he opened his eyes again, finding that the lights had gone back to normal, the torches flickering as if nothing had happened.  Around him the dwarves and goblins were all in varying stages of rising cautiously to their feet.

 

“Take up arms. Fight!” A familiar voice called as Gandalf emerged from the darkness, his sword held in one hand, his staff in the other, “FIGHT!”

**Author's Note:**

> A.N. So, I've been really obsessed with the Hobbit lately, and the Durin family dynamics in particular, so this fic was born. I’ve actually been getting a lot of writing done on this story (instead of the stories I've been trying to focus on) so i thought i would start posting. I hope you enjoy, reviews are much appreciated 
> 
> And if you are interested there is a pic on Tumblr that matches this fic pretty well. See http://theevilpickle.tumblr.com/image/48156803076  
> I claim no ownershiop over that masterful piece of art...I literally have no artisitic ability whatsoever outside of Creative writing.
> 
> Also, I'm on Tumblr now...Feel free to follow me :)  
> http://rivanwarrioress.tumblr.com/  
> R.W.


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